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Paul pry, 

A COMEDY, IN THREE ACTS. 



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BY 



JOHN POOLE, Esq. 



AUTHOR OF 



smPSOMSf Co.; QUITE CORRECT, S^c. ^c. 

AS PERFORMED AT THE 

KAY-MAEKET THEATRE, LONUON, 
AND PARK AND CHATHAM THEATRES, NEW YOTR.!^. 



Oorrect copy from the Prompt-Book« 

NEVV-tOilK: ■ 

Published by E;. M. Mnrden, Ctrc a 'atinf Library «^ 
il>r»aaatj.e Reirository, 4 Chaujbers-»treie|v 

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ACT I. 

SCENE T.— .y? nilags Inn-^Table, two aiairs, jug 
with AlCs and two Glasses. — Boubledot and Simon 
discovered drinking. 

Simon, Well, roily I must gx>, Mr Doubiedot; it 
will be a busy day at onr house. Master expects com- 
pany to dinner. 

Douh. Come, we must finisli fbe IMug : and when 
is Miss Eliza ^s weddicg* to take place ? 

Simon. Can't say : my master, Colonel Hardy, never 
lets any on? into his secrets. 

Daub. Well, Miss Eliza's a nice young lady. 

Simon. Ave ; tliat she is, but she is a sly one : she 
looks as if butter would'nt melt in her mouth ; but 
ahe's a sly one, I tell }ou. 

Daub, V\ hat makes you think that, Simon ? 

Simon. I don't mean any barm of her, for she's as 
kind a soul, bless her. as ever lived ; but, by putting 
this and that together, you know, we in the kitchen 
often knov/ whjit is going forward in the parlour, bet- 
ter than the parlour folks themselves. She's in love. 

Di'ub That's natural enough, since she's going to 
be married. 

Simon But as she never saw the man she is to marry— 

Dmb. Sensibly argued, with whom then ? 

Simon. 'SVf can't make that out. You know what a 
strict hand Colonel is — passionate — severe — no one in 
his house dare say their soul is their own ; so that, if our 
jouDg lady were in love with twenty men, sbe woqM 



4 PAUL PRY. [Poole, 

never dare tell her father of it. No, no ; my master 
is not like his nei^^bbour, old Mr. Witherton, who is 
led by the nose, by a steward and a housekeeper. 

D u' Ah ! Door old gentleman ; but don't you think 
your yonnpr Indy's maid, Mrs Phebe, is in the secret? 

Simon. Mf'-v be, but slje's as close tong-ned as her 
mistress ; besides, she never mixes with us. Mrs. Phe- 
be's a develish nice s^irl, Doublcd')t ; hrra's wisding her 
a good husband, and she may have me for asking. Well, 
I must go else I shall get chit'ering' of the ;!ifnirs of the 
family- — a thing: I never do. [rQiies forward.)' Ha ! here 
comes VI r. P ul Pry. 

Douh. Plaeue take Mr. Paul Pry. He is one of 
those iiile. meddling feliuvvs, who, having no employ- 
ment themselves, are perpetually interfering in other 
peoi'l^'s affairs. 

Simon. Ave, and he's inquisitive into all matters, 
grei^t or small. 

Dorrb. Inquisitive! why, he makes no scruple to 
question y !u respecting your most private concerns. 
Then he will weary \oi] to death with a long story about 
a cra.np -n his leg- or the loss of a sleeve button, or some 
such idle matter, and so he parses his days. '' dropping 
in " fts he calls it, from house to house, at the most un- 
reasonable times, to the annoyance of every famih in 
the village. But I'll soon get rid of him. [Simon goes 

Enter Pry. 

Prij. TTa ! how d've do. Mr Doubledot ? 

Douh. Very bus\, M^. Pry, and have scarcely time 
to say " pretty well" thank ye. 

Pri/. Ha ! Simon ! you here .-* Rather early in the 
mornmg to be in a public house — sent here with a 
mes'^afre from your master, perhaps. I say, Simon, 
when this wedding takes plnce, I suppose your master 
will put you all into new liveries, eh .'' 

Simon. Can't sny, sir 

Pn/ .'.'ell I think he might {'oik.t ni S{mon'*s sleeve^ 
Between ourselve.s, Simon, it won't be before you waBt 
lem, eh I 



Act I.] ^AlJL TRY. 5 

Simon. That's master's business, Gir,i and neither 
yours nor mine. — 

Prj/. Mr. Simon, behave yourseh", or I shall cora- 

/ plain of you to the i olonei. Apropos, Simon, that's an 

uncommon fine leg of mutton iiie butcher Las just sent 

up to your house, Jo Doubledofjll weig-hs thirteen pounds 

five ounces. 

Daub. And how do you know that ? 

Fry. 1 ask'd the butcher. 1 say, Simon, is it for 
roasting or boiling ? 

Simon. Half and half, with the chill taken off There's 
your answer. [^Exit Simon. 

Pry. Tljat's an uncommon ill-behaved servant. 
Well, since you say you are busy, 1 won't interrupt you ; 
only, as I was passing, 1 thought i might as well drop 
in. 

Doub. Then now you may drop out again. The 
London coach will be in presently, and — 

Pry. No passengers by it to-day, for I have been to 
the top of the hill to look for it. 

Doub, Did you expect any one by it, that you were 
so anxious? 

Pry. No ; but I make it my business to see the 
coach come in every day, I can't bear to be idle. 

Doub. Useful occupation, truly. 

Pry. Always see it go out ; have done these ten 
years. 

Doub. Tiresome blockhead ! well, good morning to 
you. 

Pry. Good morning, Mr. Doubledot, you don't ap- 
pear to be very full here. 

Doub. No, no. 

Pry Ha ! you are at a heavy rent (pauses for an 
answer after tack question.) I've often thought of that. 
No supporting such an establishment without a deal of 
custo.n : if it's not an iinpertineDt question, don't you 
find it rataer a hard matter to make both ends meet 
when (Christinas comes .'* 

Doub. If It isn't asking an impertinent question, 
what's that to you .'' 



6 PAUL PRY. [Poole. 

Pry. Oh ! nothing-, only some folks hare the luck 
ofit ; thev have just taken in a nobleman's family at the 

Dou'. W'lat's that ! A noble at the Green Drag-on? 

Pri/, Travelling carriajrf^" ^nd four. Three servants 
on the dicke;-' and an outrider, all in blue liveries. 
They dine, and stop all nig^ht : a pretty bill there will be 
"to-morrow, for the servants are not on board wag-es. 

Doub, Phg-ue take the Green Dracfon. How did 
you discover th^t thev are not on board wag-es ? 

Pry. 1 was curious to know, and asked one of them. 
You know J never miss any thine: for want of asking-, 
^tis no fault of mine t'le nabob is not here. 

Douh. VV"hy. wliat had you to do with it? 

Pry. You know I never forget my friends. I stopt the 
carriagT as it was coining- down the hill — stopt it dead, 
and said that his lordship — I took him for a lord at 
first — that, if his lordship intended to make any stay, he 
couldn't do better than go to Doubledot's. 

Douh. W-11 ! 

Pry AV»4I, would 3'ou believe it? — out pops a saf- 
fron coloured face from the carriag-e-window, and says, 
your'e an impu»!ent rascal for stopping- my carriag-e, and 
ni not g-o there if another inn is to be found within ten 
miles ofit. 

Di'uh. There I that comes of your confounded med- 
dli -r. If you had not interfered. I should have stood an 
CCj'ih! chance with the ^^reen Dragon. 

Pry. Vm very sorry ; but I did it for the best. 

Doub. Did it for the best, indeed ! Deuce take you. 
By vour officious attempts to serve, you do more mis- 
cti.e- in the neitchbourhood than the exciseman, the a- 
pot^ic'carv 'ir.d the ;>itO''ney. all tog-ether. 

Prt/. W 11, there's g-ratitude. Now, really I must 
go — 'j^ao;' mornino:. (^oiwr) 

Dnih. Got rid ot' him at last. Well, what now ? 

Pry. i've dropt on« ot my g-loves Nay, that's very 
odd ; h^r/' it is in mv hand all tho time. [Exit, 

Boub, Come, that's civil, (looking out) Eh ! there's 



Act I ] PAUL PRr^ 7 

the Postman ! I wonder whether the Parkinse^s hare 
got letters ajSfain today ? They have h^d letters every 
day this week, and I can't for the life of me think what 
they can — {Jee/s hastily in his pocket) Apropo? — talking 
of letters, here's one I took from him last week, for the 
Colonel's daughter, Miss Eliza, and I have always for- 
gotten to give it to her; I dare say it is not of snoh impor- 
tance, [peeps into it) " Likely unexpected affectionate." 
I can't make it out. No matter, I'll contrive to take it 
to the house. By the bye, tho' I have a deal to do to d 'y, 
buy an ounce of snuff, fetch my umbrella, which I left 
to be mended, drop in at old Mr. Witherton's, and ask 
him how his tooth is. I have often thgught that if that 
tooth was miae, I'd have it out. [Exit. 

SCENE II. — A chamber at Witherton^s — two chairs. 
Enter Mrs. Subtle and Grasp. 

Mrs. S. Don't threaten me, Mr. Grasp, for you know 
you are at least as much in my power as I am in your's, 
and that the exposure of either of us must be fatal to 
both. 

Grasp. Well, well, Mrs. Subtle, you must allow for 
the warmth of my temper. 

Mrs. S. Your temper will one day bring down ruin 
upon us. We have sufficient controul over Mr. Wi- 
therton to serve our own purpose ; but by making liim 
feel his subjection, by drawing the cord too tight, as 
you do, you run the risk of exciting his suspicions, and 
rousing him to rebellion. 

Grasp. Never fear ; we have the Old Baby in leadmg 
strings, and may do with him just what we please. 

Mrs. S. ^^'e might, whilst we remained at his owa 
place, in Wil shire, away from all the world ; but since 
his old friend. Col. Hardy, has induced him to pass a 
few months here, near him, a new influence has arisen. 

Grasp. And for that reason we must be the more ri- 
gid in the maintenance of our own. Then there's that 
young fellow, Willis, whom the Colonel has contrived 
to foist into his family : but I'll soon get rid of him'. 



S PAUL PRY. iPooIe. 

Mrs. S. It is not Willis, I fear ; but the girl, Marian. 
Whea we were at home no one presumed to interfere 
in the arrangements of the householu — that was our 
province ; but here, however, J have taken a dis- 
like to that girl, and she shall quit the house, displease 
whomsoever it may. 

Gi^asp. Indeed I it would displease me for one, and 
she shall remain. 

Mrs. S. Shall ! another such a word, Mrs. Grasp, 
and 

Grcusp. So now, Mrs. Subtle, you would threaten me. 
Who was the inventor of all the calumnies which have 
forever poisoned the mind of Vlr. Withert -n, against his 
nephew, poor young Somers .'' By whose arts have they 
been prevented meeting each other? Who falsified some 
of the poor lad's letters ^ intercepted and suppressed 
others ? impugned the character of the woman he chose 
for his wife ? 

Mrs. S. vVho was it, that, employed to forward the 
letters written to him by his uncle, destroyed them.''- 
who for these three years have robbed, pillaged, plun- 
dered — .'' 

Grasp. Both you and I So, there, we are even. 
Harkye. Mrs. Subtle, we have neither of us any thing to 
gain by quarelHng. Give ii>e your band : there ! 

Mrs. S. {aside) Tiie iiatei'ul wretch ! 

Grasp. And now to turn to a pleasanter subject. 

Mrs. S. What subject? 

Grasp. One upon which I have been coi-stant these 
five years — love, it relieves my heart, after any little 
misunderstanding between us, to say a tender word to 
you. 

Mrs. S. Really, Mr. Grasp, your gallantry — 

Grasp. I was never wanting in gallantry towards the 
fair sex : so, onoe for ail, my dear Mrs. .>ublle, you and 
1 are so confoundedly in dread ol" each otber, the sooner 
we marry, and make our interests one, the better. 

M)x;. S. (aside) TJ sooner die. — But you are so im- 
patient. 



Act 1.1 PAUL pry; ^ 

Grasp, Pooh, pooh, you have been shilly shally these 
five years ; and it is lime you shouM makeup your mind 
that we unite our interests, play the same game, and have 
the old fellow more completely in our power ; besides, 
there is no real pleasure in a sing-le life. Look at our 
master, or rather our slave. He is an old bachelor, 
and with all his fortune, he is an unhappy man. 

J)l7's. S. (?'g"''w) True-but I have once already been 
married, and — 

Grasp. Aye. but that was a marriage contracted con- 
trary to your inclinations. Our case is different. 
You'll find me a tender indulgent husband ; so I'll 
allow you till to-morrow to consider of my proposal, 
and then, if you dont, hang me but I'll expose — But 
here comes the Baby, and Colonel Hardy, and that eter- 
nal Vi'ilJis, along with him. Remember, my darling Mrs. 
Su^itle, [shakes her hand) to morrow you consent to our 
making each other happy for life, or — I'll trounce you. 

[Exit. 

Mrs. S. I am indeed in his power ; for in one moment 
conlcj he destroy the fruits often long years of labour. 
To-morrow ! Then I must bring Witherton to adecision 
to-day. My controul over his affections is, 1 think — > 
nay, I am sure — it is entire. The result cannot but be 
favourable, and, once mistress here, I'll turn you to the 
dogs . 

Enter Witherton, Hardt and Willis. 

Hardy. You'll consider of it. What do you meaa 
by considering of it? What is there to consider? Can't 
you say at once whether you wdl dine with me,, or not .'' 

Witji. Not so loud, my dear i'riend, 3'ou agitate me* 

Hardy. Then why the Uevil dont you make up your 
mind ? I hate the man who doesn't make up his mnid. 
Do as f do — always make up your mind, right or wrong. 

With. Well, well. 

Hardy. Perhaps, ^'rs. Subtle, your housekeeper, 
wont give you leave. I say, Mrs. Subtle, [to Mrs. S ) it 
it you wUo refuse your master leave to dine with me t^- 
day ? 



10 PAUL PRT. [Poole^ 

Mrs. S. I sir ! Mr. Witherton is perfectly at liberty 
to do as he pleases. 

Hardy. There ! you are at liberty to do as you please: 
and so you ought to be. I shall expect you, then. You 
have but to cross the garden to my house ; so the walk 
wont fatigue you. You'll meet a friend or two — shant 
tell ycu who, till you come — never do: and I shall have 
sometliing to say to you, relative to my daughter, Eli za's 
marriage J d'ye hear? 

With. I do, my friend : and I should hear you quite as 
well, though you did not speak so loud. 

Hardy. And bring Willis with you: he is a good lad: 
I have a great respect for him, else I should not have 
recommended him to you. You are pleased with him, 
en't you f 

With. I am, indeed. Each day of the few months 
lie has been a companion to me, he has grown in my 
esteem. His good sense, his kindly disposition, his ur- 
banity, have won from rae the conudence and afFectioa 
of a friend. 

Hardy. That's well ; and Marian — she doesn't dis- 
grace my recommendation, I'll answer for it. Where 
is she ? 

jyh's. S. She's engaged in my room, sir. Mr. Wither- 
ton received her into the family at your request; but 
really, I — 1 have so little to do, that an assistant is quite 
needless to me ; and, as I am for sparing my good mas- 
ter all the expense I can in the fnanagement of his 
house, it strikes me that — 

Hardy I think I could show him where one might be 
saved. 

With. No matter. The expense is trifling, and the 
poor thing appears to be happy to be here : and heaven 
knows, that the sight of a happy face is the only soJace 
in my lonely existence. 

Hard. Serve you right, you old fool, for not marrying 
in your youth : 1 don't wish to say any thing unpleasant, 
but it serves yim right, 1 tell you. And then, to make 
matters worse, jou must needs go pass your days at a 



pielancboly place in Wiltshire, where you hare only 
those about you, who — ah. — As to your neglecting; your 
nephew, I'll say n6thing about that now, because I won^t 
make yon uncomfortable — But you repent it — 1 know 
you do: and you'll repent it more every day you live. 

With. That is a subject I must not hear mentioned, 
even by you 

Hardy. Why now^ who the deuce does mention it ? 
Didn't f this very moment say I won't mention it for 
fear of making- you uncomfortable ? Ah, you are a fool- 
ish old fellow — mark my words, you are a very foolish 
old fellow ; I'll go home an4 talk to my daughter about 
her marriage. Bless her dear innocent little heart? 
there she is \ I'll answer for it, quietly seated in the li- 
brary, reading the Spectator, or painting daffodils on 
Velvet. Well, good morning, I shall expect you. 
[shakes his hands violently.) 

With. I'll come, but — ^consider my nerves, {^oes up 
and sits. J 

Hardy. Plague take your nerves ; but it serves you 
right. If you had lived a jolly life, as I have done, you 
would never have had any nerves. Good morning, Mrs. 
Subtle. 

Mrs. S. I wish you a very good morning, sir — allow 
me to conduct you to the door. 

Hardy. Willis, you will be sure to come with Mrs. 
Witherton. The train is fairly laid ; do you and your 
little wife be on your guard ; and if we don't blow your 
enemies into the air — (muttering to Mrs. Subtle, wha 
curtsies ceremoniously.) 

[Exeunt Hardy and Mrs. Subtle. 
Willis comes doion. 

With. There goes a happy man ! Oh, Hardy is right-. 
I ought to have married in my youth, (rises and comes 
^•) 

Willis. And why did you not, sir ? 

With. For the fool's reason ; I was unwilling to sa- 
crifice my liberty. And what is the boasted liberty of a 
bachelor? He makes a solitarjf journey through life 



12 PAUL FRY. {PooU!^ 

loving^ no one, by none beloved ; and when he reaches 
the confines of old ag-e, that which, with a tender com- 
panion at his side, might have been to him a garden of 
repose, he finds a barren wilderness. 

Willis. True, sir ; and often with the sacrifice of hia 
dear liberty into the bargain : avoiding tlie dreaded con- 
trol of a wife, he deems himself a slave to cunning and 
interested dependants. 

With, [looking cautiously about.) Willis, Willis, that 
I sometimes fear is my case ; not that I have any reason 
to doubt the fidelity and attachment of Grasp, or Mrs. 
Subtle, but they frequently assume an authority over 
me, which, however, it may displease me, yet from a 
long, lazy habit of submission, I have scarcely the cou- 
rage to resist. 

Willis, (aside.) My poor uncl6 ! 

With. But Mrs. Subtle is a good soul, a kind soul, 
and as attentive and affectionate towards me as a sister. 
Do you know that notwithstanding her humble situa- 
tion here, she is well-born, as she tells me, well educa- 
ted — aye. and a very fine woman too. 

Willis, [aside.) It is not difficult to perceive where 
this will end. — You — you had a sister, sir. 

With. I had: the mother of my ungrateful and diso- 
bedient nephew. She went abroad, died, and left ad 
only son— ^this Edward Somers. He might have been a , 
joy and comfort to me-^he is my bane and curse. But', 
iet us speak of him no more; his very name is hateful to 
me. 

Willis. This is the first time I ever ventured, sir. Du- 
ty and respect which hitherto have constrained me to 
be silent, now bid me speak What proofs have you. of 
his ingratitude and disobedience ? 

With. The proofs are in his conduct. At his mother's 
death I wrote to him to come to England, told him of 
my intention to seUle the bulk of my fortune upon him, 
to receive and consider him as my son t a 

Willis. You wrote to him ? 

With. Aye ; and often, as Grasp and Mrs. Subtle eas 



*^ct I.] PAUL PRY. IS 

testify ; — for they saw my letters. But he negflected my 
commands — nay, did not even deig-n to notice thetn. At 
leng-th, by mere accident, I discovered that he ivus in 
Eng'land, living obscurely in a mean village— married 
— Wdlis ! and as if to give point and poig-oanc^ to his 
disrespect, without even the form of asking the consent 
and approbation of me, his only relation, his frieud, his 
benefactor, 

Willis. How, sir! did he not write letter after letter, 
complaining of your neglect of him ? Did he nut entreat, 
implore your sanction to his marriage? 'til wearied at 
last by your continued silence, he became fully war- 
ranted in deciding for himself. 

With. The goodness of your own nature suggests 
these excuses for his misconduct. He did, indeed, some- 
times write to me, but in such terras, Willis 

Willis. Where are those letters sir? 

With. Mrs. Subtle, in kindness towards the reprobate, 
destroyed them the moment she read them to me. 

Willis. She read them? Did not you, yourself, read 
them, sir ? 

With. No : the good soul spared me that pain ; and 
as Grasp has since told me, she even suppressed the 
most offensive passages. 

Willis. Oh, mfamy ! 

With. Aye, question me now what grounds there 
are for my displeasure ; but when I add thvit he has dis- 
graced me by his worthless choice, that the woman he 
IS married is — 

Willis. Hold, sir ! I can hear no more. Your nephew 
may deserve your bitterest reproaches, but — 

fVith. Hush! here comes Mrs. Subtle and Grasp. 
When you, a stranger to me, can with difficulty restrain 
your indignation, what must be mine ? 

Willis, (aside.) My poor Marian! We must en- 
dure this yet awhile. 

Enter Mrs. Subtle and Grasp. 
^ Jlrs. S. Now, sir, it is your hour for walking. I have 
brought you your hat and caue. 

2 



'14 PAUL PRY. [Poole. 

With. Ever attcntiVe, Mrs. Subtle ; thankye, thank- 
ye. Well, Grasp, have you got the fifty pounds I asked 
you for? 

Grasp. Yes; but I can't think whatjou want them 
for; I have been plag-ued enough to procure money for 
our regfular outlaying-s, and now — 

TVilh. That oug-ht not t(. be ; for surely I do not spend 
to the extent of ir.y incoma ; yet when I desire a smali 
sum for any private purpose, you pretend — 

Grasp. Do you suppose that I take your money ? 

TFith. No, Grasp, but — 

Grasp. You are for ever drawing- money for these idle 
uses. Five pounds for this poor family, ten for that — 

With. Well, well, you are an old servant, and I be- 
lieve faithfully attached to my interests; but I wishyoa 
would correct your manner. 

Mrs. S. Indeed, Mr. Grasp, yon should endeavour 
to moderate your tone ; to use more respect when you 
address our good master, {takes Withertoii's hand.) 
Our kind friend. 

With. Ah, Mrs. Subtle I you are a worthy creature ; 
and one of these days you may find i am not un;:!cratc- 
ful, {to Grasp, mildly.) Give that money to Willis; V 
shall direct him in the disposal of it. 

Grasp. I had better give up my accounts to him, my 
place. Till lately, it has been my business to manage 
your money affairs However, I have no notion of an 
interloper in the family, and either Mr. Willis, or I, 
must quit the house. 

Willis. Do not let me be a source of discord here, 
sir. 

•Mrs. S. (artfully interposing between Grasp and 
Witherton, who is ahotd to speak.) Now — now — indeed, 
Mr. Grasp — you are wrong- — [to him) You are going too 
far. {lo With.) Say nothing to him, sir; 1 will reprove' 
him for this misconduct by and b\'. 

With. But to treat me thus, and in the presence of 
Willis, too ! — Grasp, you will do as I desire. Willis, I 
must speak to you on my return. The day is fine, and 
a walk will do me good. 



Act /.] PAUL PRY. 15 

Mrs. S. Will you be very, very much displeased, if I 
©iFer you my arm to lean upon, sir ? 

TVith. Tbankye, Mrs. Subtle, thankye. Come. 

(Grasp goes tip and gives money to Willis, as 
they are going ojf- ) 

Enter Pry. 

Pry. Ha ! How do ye do this morning. I hope I don't 
intrude ? 

With. No, Mr. Pry, no. (aside.) How provoking' ! But 
have yoa any thinj^ particular to say to me, just now ? 

Pry. No; nothing- particular: only, as I have just 
been to fetch my umbrella, which 1 left last Monday to 
be mended — Monday — no ; it must have been — yes, Vm 
right, it was Monday ; 1 remember it, by a remarkable 
circumstance : Jkfrs. Jones sent a tray of pies to the 
Baker's — on a Monday, mind you. 

With And what was there remarkable in that, Mr, 
Try? 

Pry. Pies on a Monday ! She is not over rich, you 
know, and as I happened to know that she had Pies on 
Sunday ! pies two days following, for a person in her 
circumstances, did seem rather odd, you know. 

With. Well, that's no business of mine; and, if you 
have nothing — 

Pry. No ! only I thought that in my way back, I 
might as well drop in, and say how d'ye do. I say Mrs. 
Subtle — [she comes downL. H. corner.) you are a judge. 
I don't think this a dear job for one and nine-pence. — 
(opens his umbrella.) 

Mrs. S I must give him a broad hint, or we shall be 
pestered with the tedious fool for an hour. Mr. Pry, 
I beg pardon ; but Mr. Witherton was just going to 
take his customary walk. 

Pry. There is notliing so good for the health as walk- 
ing. — [goes up, brings down a chair in the centre^ and 
sits.) 

Mrs. S. There ! now he is fixed for the day. 

Pry. That is to say, walking in moderation. I ana 



16 FAUL PRY. [Pook' 

a great walker mj'self ; I once brou£^ht on a fit of the 
gout by i : f did, alt hough some people would have it 
to be liOl'jiiij^ bin the rheumatiz. I have had the rheu- 
matiz too, aud kn<nv the difference : elhows and knees, 
at the same time. I was in this position lor three w eeks, 
I was, I assure you , look/ng* exactly like a goose, rea- 
dy trussed for roasting. 

W^ifh. Well, good di'v, }ou'll excuse me. 

P>y. i ertaifly : if you are going down the road, I'll 
walk with you 

JVr*. S. But we are not, sir. [coming behceen Ihem.^ 

Pry, No matter; I'll walk with 30U the other way— 
I have nothing to do 

J\lrs. S. But we "have something to speak about. 

Pry All, ha ! Mrs. Subtle, vo- are a sly one. Whee- 
dle vourselr into the old gentleman's good graces, eh ^ 

Mrs. S. Sir ! ^ 

Pry. Weil, don't be aD!i;ry. I only spoke, you know. 

W-tfi. ( ome, Mrs. hrbtle, come, for we shall now 
get »id 01' him. Some other time 1 shall be glad to see 
you. Sir. — [Exeunt jVrs. S/Jdle and JVitkerton, L. H.) 

Pry. Thank ye, I'll drop in again, by and by : a 
plefis- at M alk. vVell, ivir VV lUis, and how do you do ? 

W'^' '■■'■'<. iN'ovr it is rnv turn. 

Fry I say, ^ arian, Mrs. Subtle's assistant is a very 
pretty j'jung woman : I s..\v you. last night, walking 
togeth^:r. hy the river si le — tiiough vou didn't see me. 
I folIoiicJ you for nearly half an hour. 

f^'a '<".*. Followed us ! 

Pn.'. ' ct uld not, for the life of me, make out what 
you wen talking about. Not difficult to guess, eh.'' — 
1 do:it thi :ii ii would be quite tlie match for you, though. 

JViifin- Then lie does not .suspt-ot she is my wife ! 

Pry. After all, she is hut a sort of deputy house- 
ket'i-cr >r.! nn I told you beloMg to a respectable family. 
Tolerubl.' rcfipeciable, eh ? " 

Willis, i r. Faol Pr\ . iT you can make it appear that 
it conct-rns »ou a thoi sur.cth part o a straw to know» 
I'll write the history ot my birth, parentage and educa- 



Act /.] PAUL PRY, 17 

tion, for your particular information. Good morniDg 
to you, Jlr. Pry. — [Exit. 

Pry. Good morning to you, Mr. Willis — that's an 
uncommon polite young- man- You are bring-ing- him 
up to succeed you, J suppose, eh, My. Grasp ? no bad 
thing neither: you must have a very comfortable place 
here. 

Grasp. Pretty well, as times g-o. 

Pry. Tho' from your master taking- this small house, 
economy is the order of the day, I take it, eh ? 

Grasp. You had better ask my master. 

Pry. No : he'd think it impertinent, perhaps. Bless 
you, it is no busijkesis 9£4n,ine only ; it appears odd — nei- 
ther chick nor child, aiid, whenever he dies, he'll cut 
up for a pretty round sum, eh — a hundred thousand — 
eighty, eh ? — and y'ou, you cunning- dog, I dare say, you 
have laid by a few thousands. IXovv, between ourselves, 
if it is not asking an impertinent question. 

Grasp. Not at all; (looks at his vxitch.) Exactly 
ten minutes past twelve : so, / wish you good morning. 

[E.xit. 

Pry. That's one of the strangest — (Jiooking about.) — - 
Well, /can't say it is very polite of them to leave me 
here alone, if / were the least of a bore noxv, it would 
be pardonable, but — {looks at his watch.) Well, it is 
only ten minutes after twelve, /declare. How long the 
day seems ! what shall /do till dinner time ? let me see ! 
/'ll just drop in at — [looking off.) Oho ! is it so ! aha, 
my young spark — trying t lie lock of colonel Hardy's 
garden gate ! That's very mysterious ! Egad, i'li soon 
find out what you want there (runnAng off and return- 
ing.) /had like to have gone without my umbrella. 

[Exit. 

SCENE in. — Colonel Hardy''s garden— Garden toall 
with door — Practicable house — Garden chairs — Lad- 
der against wing. 

Enter Phf.be from house. 
Phe. Oh dear ! oh dear ! — here's another fine day, 
and not a single cloud in the heavens to give me a hope 



18 PAUL PRY [Poole, 

of tke rainy weather setting- in. Here, in this stupid 
villao^e, at fifty miles from London, have Miss Eliza 
and I been veg-etating- three eternal months and as 
the sky continues so vexatioush brig-lit, and the ba- 
rometer obstinately pointing- at " set fair " I see no 
chance of a speedy return to dear, delightful town. 
Heigho ! — This fine season will be the death of me. 

Enter Eliza, with a book, from, house, 

Eliza. Heigho, 

P/ie. Heigho ! — aye, that is the burthen of our me- 
lancholy song-. 

Eliza- VV hat day is this , Phebe ? 

Pke. Who can tell, Miss? Days are so much alike 
in this dull place, that it may be yesterday, or to-mor- 
row, for any thing' there is to mark the difference. 

Eliza. And has the country no charms for you, 
Phebe ? the spreadmg- folinge — the natural music of 
the birds — London cries — the sublime spectacle of the 
rising sun ? — 

Phc. Very fine, I dare say : but one must g-et up 
so early in the morning- to see it. 

Eliza. Early in the morning ? when else would you 
see the sun rise, Phebe? 

Phe. Going home from a masquerade, or a ball, 
late at night J>/iss. All that may be very pleasant to 
a romantic young lady like you, just returned from 
boarding school : but for my part, if indeed one had a 
little agreeable society here. 

Eliza. Well, and so we have : there's my Pa, there's 
JSIr. Paul Fry drops in sometimes 

Phe. Jlr P;iul Pry ! charming company indeed ! 
(vmnics him) "If it is'nt an mipertioent question." 
The last time he was here, he asked me such things 
that lealiy 1 

Eliza. Then Jl/r. ^Fitherton comes to see us occa- 
sionally. 

Phe. IFhrn his housekeeper allows him. An old Twad- 
dler I r^o, miss, that is not the sort of society I mean. 



Ad /.] PAUL PRY. 19 

Eliza. J^Fhat do you mean,Phebe ? 

Phe. A lover, m iss. 

Eliza. Oh fie ! {they rise) If my Pa were to hear 
jou talk so. 

Phe. And were you never in love, then ? 

Eliza. No, Phebe ; and my Pa, would be very an- 
gry if I were tofall in love without his leave. (aside) Vm 
afraid to trust her. 

Phe. (aside) TF\i:it a yea-nay, piece of innocence it 
is — well Jiiss. I have no Pa's to be ang-ry with me, and 
if a pretty young fellow were to fall in my way. 

Elica. Ha' done, Phebe, I must not hear you talk 
so: as to company, yon know my cousin Frank is com- 
ing- home from sea in about a week. We have not seea 
him since he was quite a boy, and he'll be company for 
us 

Phe. And how are we to amuse ourselves for a week? 

Eliza. We may read, work, or sing* 

Phe And when we are tired of that, to vary our 
amusement — we may singf, work, and read. 

Song, " The Lover'>s Mistake.'''* 

Ah me ! a country life is unfit for a single womau ; 
snd as my last mistress, I^ady Courtly, used to say, 
there are but three circumstances that can render it to- 
lerable to a married one. 

E'iza. And what are they ? 

Phe. Hedges very high ; ditches wide and deep ; and 
a husband passionately fond of hunting. 

[Ajlute heard behind loall. " Tel/ her T »ove ^er*"j 

El'zf{. ('ets her book droj)) Oh dear me ! 

Phe. What's that ? 

Eliza That- Phebe ! I suspect it is nothing but ^ 
flute — (aside) I am sure that is his signal. How im- 
prudent for him to come down here. 

Phe. Nothing but a flute. Now as flutes don't usu- 
tilly play of themselves, I suspect it must be sometliing 
more. 

Eliza. Well, Phebe, I — Pll confide my secret to 
JOU ; but you won't betray me. It is my Harry ^ 



20 PAUL PRY. [Poole 

Phe. So then, Miss Innoceace, you have a Harry 
of your own. Weli done, upoo iiy word And who is 
your ',-iarry ? 

El)Z:i. Barry Stanley, a lieutenant in the navy. 

Pile. And where coul(i you have become acquainted 
with him i You have not been from under your father's 
ey? siiice you weva at boarding school ; and 

Eliza, There it was. Phebe ; he used to come there 
to see his sister tlarriet ; and, one day, we fell in love 
with each other. 

Pke. ,Jaj.glving) -'■ Oh fie, Phebe, if my Fa were to 
hear you talk so :■" and pra^ an't you ashamed to fall in 
love without your Pa's leave.'' 

Eliza. iNo. Fliebe. for lie's very young', and vciy 
handsome. He's only eig-hieen. 

Phe. Now, miss, let me give you a word of serious 
advice. 1 won't betray your secret, I promise you : 
but let me recommend you to mention it yourself to 
yonr father ; and if the young gentleman should prove 
a suitable match for }'OU — 1 daresay 

Eliza. Doij^l speak of that. — I dare not for the world. 
First of all, you know my Pa has siome other marriage 
in view for me; and then he is so passionate and pe- 
remptory 

Phe. And as abrupt and absolute as if he were com- 
manding his regiment. Bless me, here he comes. 

Eliza. If my Harry should repeat the signal; we shall 
be discovered. 

Enter Ha\{.x)\ from house. 

H'trdf/,. Eliza, my dear, 1 expect company to-day. 

Eliza, Do you, pa.'' 

Hardy. iVly neighbour Witherton, and a young gen- 
tleman 1 expect from London to-day. He is the hus- 
band 1 mteod lor }ou. You'll be married in a week. 

jUiza. i?o soon , Pa .-* 

Hardy. Aye. and sooner if by chance m}^ nephev/ 
Frank should return. I dare say Frank is grown a gi- 
ant. [ long to ^ee the boy : I have not seen him since 
he was nine years old. 



'Act I:] PAUL FRY. _ 1^1 

Phe. But I believe, sir, my young lady has never 
seen the young- gentleman you intend for her husband ? 

Hardy. What of that ? she is no worse off than I am. 
I have not seen him. His father writes me word that he 
has a son, who is a prodigy. I reply, that my daughter 
is a miracle : the marri-ige is concluded on, and who 
dares say any thing against it? Do you, or do you? 
Nobody has any thmg to say against it So much the 
better all parties must be perfectly satisfied. {Takes 
Eliza's hand ) That's a good obedient girl. 

Phe. (.ysidr) Oh! the sulky thing! I have not pa- 
tience with her. Beg pardon, sir ; but suppose — I mere- 
ly say, suppose— Miss Eliza should happen not to love 
your intended son-in-law? 

Hardy. What then ? what is love ? what has love to 
do with it ? Did I marry her mother for love ? yet we 
were very happy together ; at least I can speak for my- 
self. I was happy when I married her — happy whilst 
she lived — happy nh^n she died; and I've been happy 
ever since, and tliat's worth all the love in the universe. 

Phe. Some folks may not be of your way of thinkino-, 
sir. ' '^ 

Hardy. Think, indeed, you saucy baggage! what do 
you mean by thinking ? I allow nobody in my house to 
th\nk. I am not like old JFitherton ; I expect obedi- 
ence : so obey all of y(»u d'ye hear ? 

Eliza. But Pa, if 1 might enquire the gentleman's 
name 

Phe There's an effort. 

Hardy. Hey day ! a mutiny in the regiment. If you 
had not asked, perhaps I'd have told you ; now you 
shall know nothmg about it; you shall not know who 
he is, till you are under the hands of the parson. If you 
provoke me further, you shall marry him blindfold. 
My be, never know who he is. But I perceive what 
.his is, (to Phebe). It is you who have been putting 
hese higb romantic notions about loving a husband into 
ny girl's head. 

Phe, Desiring to know who her husband is ta be> is 



PA.UL PR If. 



[Poole. 



mig-hty romantic truly. It, indeed, now she was to en- 
tertain a secret passion for some ardent youth who 
should serenade her by moon-light. 

Hardy. She ! she pVesume to fall in love without my 
consent. Look at her, bless her innocent heart. I tell 
you what, Mrs. Phebe, if I hear any more— but what 
was that you said about serenading: ? That reminds me 
—who was that playing the flute under my garden-wall 
just now ? 

Phe. How should we know, sir? most likely some 
bird-catcher decoying- the thrushes. 

Hardy. Thrushes, indeed ! No, no, it was not the 
thrushes he was decoying. Some flirtation of your's, / 
dare say, and /won't allow it. 

Phe'. Mine indeed, sir ! / am no more capable of 
such a thing- than my young lady herself. 

Hardy- Say no more on the subject. It is setting a 
bad example to mv daughter, and / won't allow it, I tell 
you Come in with me, my dear ; and hark'ye, Mrs. 
Phebe, your bird catcher had better take care I don't 
catch him. (As he is goin^, a stone with a fetter attack- 
ed to it, is thrown over the wall.) ^Fhat's that ? 
Eliza. Oil Phebe, what will become of me .? 
Hardy. What's that I say ^ 

Phe. That, sir, why cant you see what itis .' A stone 
some idle bov has thrown over the wall- 

Hardy. I say you idle boy. how dare you throw stones? 
why there's a "letter lied to it. Stand out of the way, 
and let me have it. No address. 

Phe. [aside.) That's fortunate. Give it to me, sir, it 
is mine. 

Hn-dy. Your's, is it ? we shall soon see that, vv tiy 
what a scrawl— and in pencil too. (rends.) " Loveliest 
of vour sex" 
Phe. There, sir, 1 told vou, it was addressed to me. 
Hardy. You, indeed, you ugly little monkey, are you 
the loveliest of your sex .'' 



^d L] PAUL PRY. 23 

Phe. 'Tis quite clear, it is not for you, sir ; so give it 
me. 

Hardy. Will somebody stop that girl's tongue ? Let 
me be (reads) " Persuaded, you would recoe^nize the 
signal, and attend to it, I had determined to scale the 
garden wall, but am prevented by an impertinent 
fellow, who is watching my movements. An inter- 
view is indispensable, as I have something of the deep 
est importance to communicate. Waen he is gone, 
I will return. Has your father" (your father !) '' any 
suspicion of our mutual attachment ? Your eternally 
de^'oted — ." No signature ; so, the case is evident, (to 
Eliza.) Now, Miss Timidity, you with your demure 
looks — you, who have never an answer beyond *' yes 
Pa" and " no Pa," and can scarcely say ''Boo to a 
goose " what can you find to say to this ? Answer me- 
who is this bird-catcher of yours ? speak, I say. 

Eliza, /ndeed Pa, / - 

Phe. Dout answer, miss, if you have any secret of 
your own ; you may do as you please about it, but you 
have no right to divulge mine. 

Hardy. Your's ! Don't attempt to deceive me. Her 
looks convict her.* Besides, am not / her father men- 
tioned here ? 

Pile. No sir, it is my father. 

Hardy. Your father ! How the devil came you by a 
father ? who ever heard of your father ? 

Phe. /imagine /have as good a right to a father as 
my betters ; at any rate, that letter is mine. The ap- 
pointment was with me ; and if you was twenty 
times my master /would protest against your compe- 
tency to intercept my correspondence. 

Hardy. Why zounds ! here's a chambermaid talking 
like a member of parliament. But /'li presently come 
to the truth of this, and if /find you to blame {to Eliz.) 
/'il lock you up on bread and watcv, till you are mar- 
ried: and your husband shall do the same by you for 
the rest of your life afterwards. But hov/ to proceed .' 
/have it. The fellow, whoever he is, intend* to return ; 



24 PAUL pRTTc [Poole, 

no doubt he is still lurking- about. Stay you where you 
are, don't move, and if either of you utter a sound, or 
give the slightest signal, wo be to you. [Places a lad- 
der against the wall, mounts, and looks cautiously over) 

Eliza. Phebe, Phebe, my poor Harry will be disco- 
vered, and what are we to do then ? 

Phe. ^Fhat indeed. Miss, ! but it is your own fault, 
/f you had admitted me to your confidence, Jcould have 
managed matters much better, / promise you. 

Hardy. [Descending.) I hdive him : there he is crouch- 
ing on the ground with his eye at the key-hole. He 
shall find me a more expert bird-catcher than himself: 
— for I'll catch him first ; and hang me, but VW salt his 
tail for him afterwards. [Hardy suddenly opens the gar- 
den gate, and discovers Pry, in the attitude described. 
He drags him in. Door in JVnlL 

Hardy. I have you, you villian. Come in, and let 
me hear what you have to say for yourself ; who are you i* 
J^hat do you want here ? 

Eliza. {'0 Phebe.) Why, 'tis Mr. Pry. 

Phe. Then we are safe. 

Hardy. Speak, / say, who are you .'' 

Pry. You know /can't speak if yo« choke me. 

Hardy. I have something worse than choking for 
you — who are you .'* 

Pry. Why don't you know me ? — Mr. Pry, Paul Pry. 

Hardy. And so it is : so then, you arc the bird-catcher 
you rascal. 

Pry. Bless you, no, Pm no bird-catcher, I'm 

Hardy. And it is thus you abuse my hospitality ? Is 
it for this you are constantly dropping in ^ Confess the 
truth, or you shall drop down in where you little expect 
before you are five minutes older. 

Pry. What is it you mean ? 

Hardy. Is it the mistress or the maid ? 

Pry. Are you out of your senses ? 

Hardy. You think I am in the dark; but I'll con- 
vince you I have detected your intrigue, [shoivs the 
sto)ie.) What's this? 



Act /.] ^ PAUL PRr. 25 

Prr/. That! 

Hardy. N^o equivocation. What is it? 
Prij. W y, I should take it to be a stoue. 
Hirdy. Oh, you confess that. And what's this? 
{^shou's the notp.) 

Pry It looks like a note. 

Hardy. A note ! very well ! Bat I have not done 
with you yet. You have other proofs about you. {search- 
es his pocket.) What have you done with your flute ? 
Pry. What have you done with your senses? 
Phe. I wonkier \ou are not ashamed of yourself, Mr. 
Pry, to send letters to me, and compromise a young 
woman's reputation as you have done. 

Pry. I — upon my life, 1 never compromised a young 
woman, smce the day I was born. 

Phe. [making s-igns to him.) if you mean honourable 
towards me, sneak to my father, ottierwise your playing 
the flute is but playing the fool, that I can tell you. 

Pry. Oh 1 perceive. You mistake, me for the young 
man 1 surprised here just now. 

Hanly. What — what — ayoiiog man — then it was'at 

you 

Pry. Lor 1, no. I'll tell you all about it. 
Hardy Do then, and be quick. 
Phe. Devil take the cliatt^ring booby. 
Pry. You must know 1 was coming from Mr. With- 
therton's, w.iere 1 !iad just dropt in to ask him how his 
tooth was — now that's very provoking, I forgot to ask 
him, after all. 

Hardy. Never mind the tooth now — get on with you» 
story. 

Pry. And just as I was turning the corner. I per* 
ceived a young man preparing to climb your wall. The 
instant l)e saw me, away he run — oho ! thinks I — 

Hardy. Oh, the tiresome — In a word then, he has es- 
capf^d 

Pry. He ran away, as I said — and that's all I know of 
the matter. 

Hardy. And what were you doing there ? 



26 PAUL PRY, [Pook. 

Pry. Eh, why, to tell you the truth, I heard a talk- 
ing here ; and as I could not make out what the meaning 
of it all was, and one is naturally anxious to know, you 
know, I just took the liberty to put my ear to the key- 
bole, then I put my eye. {puts his hand to his eye.) 
Thfire again ! I shan't be able to see out of this eye for 
a week. I hate those plaguy small key-holes, the wind 
comes through them like a needle. 

Hardy. So then you confess that you have been eaves- 
dropping about mj house. Not content with coming in- 
side perpetually to see what is going forward, you must 
go peeping, and peeping about outside. Hark^e, Mr. 
Pry. you are a busy, meddling, curious, imfiertinent — 
Pry. It is not genteel to call names. Indeed, I think 
you ought to be obliged to me for the discovery. 

Hardy. And what have you discovered ? But it is 
your way. You never get hold of a story, but you take 
it at the wrong end. But for your busy interference, 
the fellow would have carried his intention into execu- 
tion, and then I should have had him. 

Pry. Well, I did it for the best ; but if ever I do a 
good-natured thing again I 

Hardy. 'Tis clear there is something going forward. 
(to Eliza and Phehe.) But now that my suspicions are 
excited. I'll watch you closely, and if I find you con- 
cerned in it 

Eliza. Indeed, Pa *■ 

Hardy. Well, well, I'm not to be deceived, so be- 
ware. As to you, you imp of mischief, I'll answer for 
it, you are in the plot, whatever it is. 

Phe. That is ihe rule in those cases, the mistress can 
do no wrong; so we, poor ministers of waiting-womea, 
are made the scape-goats. 

Hardy, {to Eliza and Phebe.) You get in- 

[ Exeunt Eliza and Phehe. 
{to Pry.) And 3'ou get out. {opens the door.) 

Pry. This is a mysterious aliair — most mysterious. I 
shan't sleep a wink 'till I've discovered what it is all 
about. 



^IctL] PAUL PRY. 27 

Hardy. Are you coming', sir ? 

Pry. Beg pardon, colonel, I wish you a very g-ood 
morning-. [Exit Fry. 

Hardy. Good morning-, good morning ! The med- 
dling- blockhead. Can this have been an assignation 
with my daughter ? No, no, she is too innocent, too 
artless : 'tis some love affair of Phebe's, no doubt. How- 
ever, I'll have an eye on both of thera. (a loud Hng at 
the bell.) Who's that, / wonder? {opens the do(,r and* 
Pry appears.) Beg pardon ! I forgot my umbrella, 
that's all. 

Hardy. Plague take you, and your umbrella. {ExeunU 

END OF ACT I. 



ACT II. 

SCENE I. — A Room at Witheeto:<'s. 

JTwftT Willis R. H. MapiAx\ L. H. ihrough open 
window. 

Willis. Yet a little forbearance, dear Marian, and 
all will be well. 

Marian. Would our fate were decided, for even in 
my assumed character, I find it difficuU to endure the 
tyranny and indolence of Mr.s. Subtle. The struggle 
is severe between the affected submission of ihe sup- 
posed dependant, and the real indignation of the wife 
of Edward Soniers. 

Willis. I too have a difficult part to play This 
mornins I nearly betr:«yed myself to my unele. His 
reproaches of me, undeserved as they were, I listened 
to unmoved ; but when he would have censured you — 
fortunately at that moment we were interrupted, so our 
secret is still secure. 



28 PAUL PRY. [Poole» 

Marian. Upon th^- whole, Edward, I cannot but 
consider this scheme of our friei d Colonel Haid^'s as 
lather a wild one. 

Willis. Yet hiiherto it has succeeded. Here as a 
stranger, and in the chdiacter orahnnible companion, 
I have won fionj ni> uncle that ailection, which ilie 
intrigues of an artful woman have diverted fioni ioe 
as his nephew : you also are no little favoniiie with 
him. Thus the main point is gained by the aestruc- 
tioa of a prejudice unfavourable to us. 

Maria.t. Wh-it more have you dibcovered of Grasp 
and Mrs. Subtle.? 

Willis. Sufficient to confirm our suspicions that let- 
ters, from and to me, have been intercepted by them. 
I have reason, too, to believe that Mrs Subtle's grand 
project is a marriage with my uncle ; by the influence 
she would thus obtain over him, our ruin would be ac- 
complished. 

Marian And are there no means of preventing 
their marriai^e ? 

Willis. I fear it will be difficult, when the affections 
of a solitary old man, a slave like iiiin to circumstances, 
and habit, are once entangled in the snares of a wily 
woman, it is no easy task to disengage them. But here 
she and my uncle come. We — must not be seen to- 
gether. Ha ' 'tis too late — they are here. 
Enter Witherton, leaning on Mrs. Subtle'? 
arm. L. H. 

Mrs. Sub. Gently, sir, gently. ( To Marian ) What 
are yon doing here.'' Why are you not in your own 
apartment ? 

Marian. I — I was merely talking to Mr. Willis 
ma'am. 

Mrs. Sub Leav« the room. 

With. Speak mildly to her, my good Mrs. Subtle 
consider — she is young and timid. , 



Act II.] PAUL TRY. ^0 

Mrs. Suh. Young and timid indeed .' 

ffith. Go, njy dear, Mrs. Subtle is d little serere in 
manner, but she means well. 

Marian. I obey you. sir. 

Mrs. Sub. [In an under tone.) Obey me, or count 
not on a long continuance here, begone! [Exit Ma- 
RrAiHf.) I^eave her to me, sir, {to WiTHr rton.) 1 un- 
derstand these matters best; [to Willis, in a gentle 
tone ;) and you, Mr. Willis, to encourage a forward chit 
like tliat — ^Fm astonished at you. 

Willis. Indeed you mistake me. 

Mrs. Sub. No matter, leave us. 

With Be within call, Willis, I would speak with 
you presently. 

Willis. I will, -sir. [Exit R. H. 2 E. 

Mrs Subtle brings a chair forward for Witherton, 
who seats himself L. H. of Mrs. Subtle. 

With. That girl is a favourite of mine Mrs. Subtle, 
in her way — in her way I mean. She was strongly 
recommended to me, by my friend Colonel Hardy, and 
I am sorry you have conceived so strange an antipa- 
thy against her. 

Mrs. Sub. And lam surprised you are so strongly 
attached to her. Do you know, I am almost — I had 
nearly said a foolish word — ^jealous of her. 

Witherion. Je;;lous ! Now Mrs. Subtle, you would 
banter me. But now we are alone, and secure from 
interruption, tell me what it is, you would consult me 
upon — oiice whilst we were out, you were on the point 
of speaking when we were intruded on by that med- 
dling blockhead Mr, Pry. 

Mrs. Sub. Oh 'tis nothing, sir, a trifle. 

With. Yon cannot deceive me : something sits hea- 
vily at your heart; explain the cause of it — you know 
me for your friend, your sincere friend ; come, speak 
freely. 



so PAUL PRY. [Poole, 

Mrs. Suh. Well then, sir, since T never act in any 
importdnl matter, but by your direction. I vu>Mld a>k 
your advice in this, of ail others,, the — most important. 

ffith. Go on. 

Mrs. Sub. Mr. Grasp, who has long been attentive 
to me, has at length become importunate for my de- 
cision on the question of marriage. 

Witherton. Marriage! Take a chair Mrs. Subtle, 
take a chair. [She sits.) 

Mrs Sub. Yes, sir. Hitherto I have never dis- 
tinctly accepted, nor have I rejected the offer of his 
hand ; wearied at length by my indecision, he has this 
morning insisted on knowing iny intentions, one way 
or the other. 

mth Well, well. 

Mrs. Sub. It is a serious question ; my mind is still 
unsettled ; my heart alas! takes no part in the question. 
How would you advise me, sir? 

H'ith. Heally Mrs. Subtle, I was so little prepared for 
such a communication, that I hardly know — Grasp is 
an honest man — a very honest man. 

Mrs. Sub. He is a very honest man, yet my own 
experience has tauiiht me, that a very honest man may 
be a very — very bacf husl)and. Tlien altho' I allow Mr. 
Giasp to be a very well meaning man— his temper — 

ff'itk. That is none of the host, certainly. 

Mrs. Sub. His manners too — not that I believe 
he would willingly offend, are offensive. Even you, I 
fear have observed that, for he has frequently addressed 
you in a mode, which my affection — I would say, my 
respect for you. have induced me to reprove. 

Jf'itk. He does not lack urbanity, I grant. 

Mrs. S%ib. And to me, that is intoler;ible, for not- 
withstanding my situation here, I can never forget that 
lam the daughter of a gentleman. Then his taste 
and habits differ from mine. 



Act II.] PAUL PRY. 51 

With. These are important objections, Mrs. Subtle, 
considering that your first husband was, as you huve 
told me — 

Mrs. Sub Speak not tome of him, sir, for that 
reminds me of one of the bitterest periods of my life ; 
yet spite of Mr. Subtle's ill usajje of me, 1 never once 
forgot the duly and obedience of a wife ; hut he was 
young, vain, fickle, and I am too late convinced that 
it is not till a mat) is soniewhal advanced in life — till 
his sentiujents and habits are formed, and fixed, that 
he can thoroughly appreciate the value of a wife's af- 
fection, or so regulate his conduct, as to insure her 
happiness, and his own. 

TFith. That is a very sensible retnark, Mrs Subtle. 

Mrs. Sub. My fathet was an evidence to the truth 
of it, sir. My father was nearly sixty when he mar- 
ried 

Hith. Indeed ! your own father ? 

'•Mrs. Sub. Ay, sir, and he li' ed to the g;ood old age 
of eighty-seven. But he was happy, and enjoyed a. 
contented mind. How tenderly my poor mother loved 
him. 

With. What was her age ? 

Mrs Sub. When she married him, about mine, sir, 
I believe it was the conreajplnrion of the picture of 
their felicity, so constantly before my eyes, that con- 
firmed my natural disposition for the quiet of domes- 
tic life. Ah, had I been fortunate in the selection of a 
partner-- 

TVith. Much — every thing, depends on that, and I 
think that Grasp is not altogether — he is not at all the 
husband for you. 

Mrs. Sub So my heart tells nie, sir — vet, when I 
quit vonr house, would you have me live alone? with- 
out a (jfotector ? 

With. How ! quit my house ! 



32 PAUL PRY. [Poole. 

Mrs. Suh. Alas, that raust I — wjiether I accept his 
proposal or not. Yet let not that distress you, sir, for 1 
doubt not — I hope, that when I am gone, my place 
ma) bt supplied by soine one equally attentive to your 
comforts, your happiness. 

fi'ith. Do 1 hear aright? Quit my house, and 
wheretoie? 

Mrs. Sub. I hardly know in what v»ords to tell you ; 
and, after all, perhaps you will say 1 am a silly woman 
to regard such idle slanders — who can control the 
tongue of scandal ? My care of you, my attentions, 
my unceasing assiduities, become the subject of re- 
mark, and — but I had resolved not to mention this to 
you; my unwearied attention to you, which is the re- 
sult of mere duty — of friendship — perhaps of a sis- 
terly affection, is said to spring from a deeper — 'A 
varmei' source — 

With. And were it so, dear Mrs. Subtle, are we ac- 
couiiiable to a meddling world — 

Mrs. Suh. Ah, sir, you — a man, strong in the recti- 
tude of your conduct, master of your own actions, 
master of your own actions I say, and independent of 
the world, may set at nought its busy slanders. But 
I, an humble, unprotected woman — no, the path of 
duty lies straight before me, I must give my hand 
where I feel I cannot bestow my heart, and for ever 
quit a house where 1 have been but too happy. 

fVith. Nay, by heaven, but you shall nor, must your 
happiness be sacrifued ? mine too? Ay, mine. 

Mrs. Sub. [Rifies.) Hold, sir, say no more. Do not 
prolong a delusion »»hich 1 am endeavom ing to dispel. 
If 1 have unwarily betrayed to you a secret, which I 
hare scarcely dared to trust even to my own thoughts; 
if I have foolishly mistaken the kindness of a friend, 
for a mote tender scnlitnent, forgive my presumption 
and forgive her, who, but for the lowliness of her sta- 



Act II.] PAUL PRY. ' 8S 

tion, might, as an affectionate and devoted wife, have 
administered to)o!ir happiness ; who, coi.-scious of her 
own unwoithiness, must soon uehold )ou for tlie last 
time. 

fFith Stay, dearest Mrs, Subtle*, and listen to your 
friend, your best and truest friend. First |.romise me, 
that here you will remain. 

Mrs. Sub. But vou have not yet advised me respect- 
i^g Mr. Grasp's proposal, and 1 have promised him an 
imniedirtie reply. 

fVith. A'tend to what I am about to say, and then, 
dearest Mrs. Subtle, let yuur ouu heart dictate )our 
choice 

Mrs. Suh. {Aside.) 'Tis done ! 

fi ith Were 1 longer to hesirate I should be negli- 
gent otiny oun liiippiness, and unjust towards your 
merits; for if an att.u hinent, h^ng and severely tried, 
were not of itself siifficient to warrant me in — [A 
knock at the door.) 

, Mrs. Sub. [As M'ilher ton starts up.) Curse on the 
intenupiion, when but another word hud compromised 
my hopes. 

Enter F AVI. Pry, L. H. 

Pry. Oh. ha, I see, billing and cooing — I hope I 
don't intrude. 

Mis Sub. You do, sir. 

Pry. Wv II, 1 Hin veiy sorry, but I came to show you 
the county Chronicle, tiiere is something in it i thought 
miglit interest you ; two columns full about a prodi- 
gious gooseberry, grown by Mrs. Netilebed at the Pri- 
ory. Most curious ; shall I read ii to vou. 

With. No, you are very good. {Turns up impa^ 
tiently.) 

Pry. I perceive I am one too many Well now, 
upon my life, (whispers her,) if 1 had entertained the 
smallest idea — 



34 ^AUL PRt. [Poole. 

Mrs. Suh. What do you mean, sir ? 

Pry. Bless you, I see things with half an eye: but 
never lear me, I'm as close as wax. Now I say, Mrs. 
Subtle, between ourselves — it shall go no farther — 
there is something in the wind, eh .'' 

Mrs Sub. I don't understand you. 

Pry. Well, well — you are right to be cautious; only 
I have often thought to myself it would be a good thing 
for both of you — lie is rich — no one to inlierit his foi^ 
lune, and by all accounts, you have been very kind to 
him, eh ? 

Mrs. Sub. Sir ! 

Pry. I mean no harm, but take my advice, service 
is no inheritance, as ihey say. Do you look to num- 
ber one ; take care to feather your nest. You are still 
a young woman, under forty, I should think, thirty- 
eight now — there — or thereabouts, eh ? 

Mrs. Sub. My respect for Mr. Witherton forbids 
me to say that his friend is impertinent. 

With. This intrusion is no longer to be borne. 
(Comes down L. H. of Pry.) Have you any particular 
business with me, sir? 

Pry. Yes, you must know, I've seen a young fellow 
lurking about your ftiend Hardy's house, and I suspect 
there is something not right going forward in his fa- j 
mily. 

PFith. That is his business, not mine, sir. i 

Pry. True, but I have been thinking that as you j 
are his friend, it would be but friendly if you were just' ' 
to drop in, aiid talk to him about it. 

With. That is my business, and not yours. 

Pry. I don't say the contrary, but at all events, Pm , 
determined to keep watch over — jj 

fVilh. That is your business, therefore you may do ' 
as you please; yet let me suggest to you, that this un- 
happy propensity of yours to meddle in matters which 



Act II.] PAUli PRY. 85 

do not concern you, may one day or other produce 
very mischievous effects. 

Pry. Now 1 take that unkindly ; what interest have 
I in trying to do a good-natured thing ^ am I ever a 
gainer by it ? But I'll make a vow that from this lime 
forward I'll never interfere. Hush ! there he is again ; 
will you do me a favour ? just allow me to go out this 
way. 

With. Any way out you please. 

Pry. I'll {^ive the alarm, and if I let him escape me 
this time — Follow ! follow ! follow ! {Exitj Flat cen- 
tre.) 

{Harry Stanley runs on at the back.) 
Harry. Confound him ! the same officious booby 
again. 

Pry. [Without.) Now, my lively spark, I'll have 
you. 

Harry. Egad, you shall run for it then. [Runs off^ 
Pry after him. R. H.) 

With. What can be the meaning of all this? That 
busy fellow's interruption has thrown all my ideas into 
•confusion. 

Mrs. Sub. Be composed, sir, take a chair, and let us 
resume — 

Enter Grasp — abruptly, R. H. 
Well, what is it you want, Mr. Grasp ? 
Grasp. You ! 

Wi^h. Mrs. Subtle is engaged just now. 
Grasp. No matter, she must conie with me, I have 
sometliingto saylo her. 

Mrs. Sub. I'll come to you presently. 
Grasp. You must corne at once. I am not to be 
made a dupe — come. Mr. Willis is waiting to see you 
in the library, sir — now, Mrs. Subtle, if you please. 

{Exit R. H.) 
With. Return quickly, dear Mrs. Subtle, and pro- 
mise nothing till you have again cousuUed me. 



Pp PAUL PRY. [Poole. 

3Trs. Suh. I will obey yon, sir; you soe how easily 
we })'>or weak women are diverted fioin our better re- 
solutions- {Exit JViiherton, R. H.) 
He is mine. What can have angered Grasp ? near as 
are my schemes to their completion, yet might one 
word from that man destroy them all. Has he over- 
heard us? Does he suspect what is my project? I 
must contrive still to evade him, till [have made With- 
erion securely mine. Then let hun do his uorst. 

{Exit R. H.) 

SCENE n.— .4 Room at Hardy' s —Door R. H. <id 
11. — An open ivindow L. H. '6d E. — Cries without 
of foiloiD ! follow r 

En!er Eliza and Phebk, R. H. 

Eliza. Oh, Phebel Pnebe! what can be tiie cause 
of all ibis confusion ? 

Pht. C')ufusi()u, indeed, Miss, one would think the 
very de — O'd Harry Imd broke loose. 

Eliza. Oid Harry, Piiebe! Pm very much afraid its 
young ri ;iry. 

Phe. You see now the consequences of your imprii- 
denf-e, i))i>s. 

Elizc 'fit should really be my poor Harry, and my 
Pa should discover him. 

Phe. Mcvcy on us all, and now tiiat his suspicions 
are awakened, and his anger excited by this morn- 
ing's adventure, he wdl be less tractable tlian. ever. 

( Cries of " follotv ! folloic /" ) 
JEnter Henry Stanley at the ivindow, L. H Sd E. 

Harry. Anv port in a siorm. {Comes down L. H.) 
So here I ;im. What, my sweet little Eliza here! 
this is beyond my hopes. 

Eliza. Oh, Mr. Stanley, how could you be so im- 
prudent ? 

Harry. Now, my dear, sweet, pretty little Eliza, 
don't be angry with me — allow me a minute to recover 



Act 11.'] PAUL PRY, ^1 

breath, and I'll tell jou all about it. This run has 
been a breather. 

Phe. What a pretty little fellow he is. I should 
have no objection to just such another little lover for 
myself. 

Eliza. But tell mequiciily, how came you here.^ 
Harry. By no very smooth path, I promise you. By 
scaling a twelve foot wall, leaping across a canal, 
clniibing an apple-tree, and so in at a first floor win- 
dow. 

Eliza. But why venture to come into the house 5> 
Hurrif. Why ? once over the garden wall, egad, I 
had no time to choose : my manoeuvre was detected by 
that same prying scoundrel, uho pievented our inter- 
view this morning. Let him fall in mv way, and I'll 
snip his ears for him. He gave the alarm, and in an in- 
stant every servant in the place, to the very dairy-maid 
was m full chace of me. I flew like a skiff before the 
wind, and cleared the canal at a leap. None of my 
pursuers could weather that point; so finding myself a 
few minutes ahead of them, and perceiving that win- 
dow open, I made all sail for it as my only chance of 
©scape, and here I am. 

Phe. You have escaped with a vengeance. Do you 
know, sir, where you are ? 

Harry. In the presence of my darling little Eliza 
and where else could I be so happy ? 

Eliza. Did you hear that Phebe ? 

Phe. Pooh ! nonsense— we are all on the very brink 
of rum, and there he is quietly talking about being 
happy. You must instantly quit this place,— so get out 
how you can. ( Goes up to the windoiv.) 

Harry. No, no, I have had so much trouble to get 
m, that I'll not get out again 'till I have explained my 
errand. ^ 



38 I'AUL PRY. [Poole. 

Eliza- What Phebe says is true, if my Pa should 



come. 



JI1H-- . 

Phe (Comes forward) They are on a wron« scent, 
so you are safe foi a few minutes, but speak quickly. 

Harry. First tell me, when do you expect your cousin 
Frank ? 

Eliza. Not for a week. . 

Harri/ That will be too late ; as Frank, who is my 
old shipmate and friend, would have interceded for us 
with vour father. 

Phe. But since he is not here, what next do you 

propose ? 

Harry. Boldly to ask the Colonel's consent. 

Phe. Which he will refuse. 

Harry. So I expect, and I am prepared accordingly. 
Now I have a most important question to ask you. 
Pray ladies, are you fond of travelling ? 

Eliza. What an odd question ! 

Harry. I have just seen in Doubledol s yard the 
prettiest yellow post-chaise in the world, [puts his arm 
round their waists.) It will just hold ns three as comforta- 
bly as if it had been made for us. We clap four horses 
to it, visit the blacksmith, get married, and then let our 
pa's unmarry us, if they can. 

Eliza. Lord ! Harry, that would be running away, 
and I must not think of such a thing. 

Phe. Oh, thai somebody would make me such an ot- 

{cr. 

Hariy. Punning away ! look at me, I've just been 
running away, and I'm nothing the worse for it. 

Eliza. You ! ^ , , i 

Harry. I had scarcely arrived at my father's house 
when the old gentleman told me of some dowdy of his 
own choosing, whom he intended 1 should marry. I 
ventured a respectful remonstrance, he swore I should 

marrvher; if I do, sir, says I, I'll be {Phebe stops 

hismoidh.) So I cut sliort the argument by mounting a 
Borse and galloping down here. 

Phe, Then I'd advise you to remount him and gallop 



Act IL] PAUL PRY. 39 

home ag-ain. for my youngs lady is in a pre<iisely similar 
sitaalioa. The colonel has provided a husband for her, 
and — 

Harry. In that case an elopement is our only resource, 
and if our dear pa's are determined on a marriage, 
we'll force them to marry one another. 

Phebe. That's all very fine;but you must 2^0 : so take 
the opportunity whilst the coast is clear. You are a 
very imprudent young- gentleman, and I foresee mis- 
chief, unless I take the rnanag-ement of this affair into 
my own hands. If you would have me for your friend, 
begone at once, and I'll do all I can to serve you. 

Har7y, You are a good little girl, and if I don't con- 
trive to find a husband for you too — {fo Eliza) One kiss, 
and I'm gone, I must not forget my little Bridget — Abi- 
gail — what's your name ? [kisses Phebi.) 

Phebe. Phebe ! Phebe ! — there, sir, that will do. 

Ehza. [dragging him away.) There, Phebe says, that 
will do; so you had better go, Harry- (as he is going 
Hardy speaks without ) 

Hardy. Don't leave a bush or a bramble unsearched. 
Let loose Jupiter and Bacchus ; and whoever the villain 
is, bring him before me dead or alive. 

Phe. There's a pretty business ! The Colonel is 
coming — quick — ^jump out of the window, 'tis the way 
you came in. 

Harry. But coming and going are two very differ- 
ent things. Mrs. Phebe ; no, I'll remain here, and de- 
clare my intentions. 

Eliza. Oh, no — 1 won't have my pa see you for the 
world. 

Phe. Here, quick — this way. [puts him into a room.) 

Eliza. What have you done f Consider, that is my 
room. 

Phe. No matter, Miss; we'll conceal him there 'til 
your father is gone ; and then I'll contrive to get him 
away. 

Enter Hardy. 

Hardy, [speaking off.) Stand you at the staircase ; 



40 PAUL ray. [Poole, 

and the first person that attempts to pass without my 
orders, fire. This time he shall not escape me. So, 
here you are — what have you to say for yourselves.'' 
Which of you is the culprit.'' j- 

' Phe. What do you mean, sir .^ ■ 

Hardy. But I perceive — there she stands, pale and 
trembling-, f'orae hither, and tell me who he is. 

Eliza. Indeed, pa. you frig^hten me so, I cannot speak. 

Hardy Frightened ! How dare you be frightened 
when your tender, kind old father speaks to you ? 
Zounds! am I Blue Beard, or the Grand Tnrk .'' But 
tell who he is, 1 say. 

Phe. Who, sir .'' 

Hardy. A man has been seen to come over my gar- 
den wall. 

Phe. Ha ! ha ! hal and is that all ? So, for that the 
whole house is in an uproar ; as if the orchard had 
never been robbed before. 

Hardy. What, at noon-day ? 

Phe. Why, then, sir, 'tis some visiter of your own 
perhaps. 

Hardy. Would any visiter of mine come scrambling 
over the wall, when I have a door to my house.'' But 

they'll catch him, and then Come hither, Phebe, 

and tell me the truth, if my daugliter has deceived me; 
and spare me the mortification of exposing her mis-con- 
duct in the presence of every menial in my service. 

Eliza, (aside) Don't betray me, Phebe. 

Phe. You are so passionate, sir, that even if I 
knew 

Pry. (without loindow.) Would you murder me, you 
hard-hearted monsters .-' 

Hardy. They have him — they have him ! 

Pry. [with one foot at the window and speaking off.) 
Don't fire ! I'm a friend of the family. I tell you. Oh, 
if I do but escape with my life 

Phe. Then we are saved again. 

Hardy, (skiving him his 1 1 and.) Pray do me the ho- 
nour to walk in, sir So, this is the second time I have 
^ you ; now what rigmarole story can you invent .'' 



Act i/.] PAUL PRY. 41 

Pry. Let me g^o ; there's a mistake, I'm not the man, 
I am your friend. I was coming- this way intending 

just to drop in — when 

Hardy. My friend indeed ! how dare any friend of 
mine drop in at^ first floor window ? 

Pry. If you doubt nsy friendship see what I have 
suffered in your service. {Turns about, and shows his 
clothes font ) 

Hardy. Explain yourself 

Pry. I have been hunted like a stag, and nearly sa- 
crificed like a heathen to tlie fury of Jupiter and Bac- 
chus ; and all owing- to a mistake. I saw a strang-e 
man climb over your wall ; and being naturally anxi- 
ous to know what he could want, I followed him, gave 
the alarm, and 

Phe. Why this is the same story he told you this 
morning-, sir. 

Hardy. And so it is. — W^iy this is the same story you 
told me this morning. Hark'ye, sir, if you find no bet- 
ter excuse for your extraordinary conduct, I shall for- 
get you are my neighbour, act in my quality of magis 
trate, and commit you for the trespass. I find you en- 
tering my house in a very suspicious manner 

Pry. Well, if I ever do a good natured thing again. — 
fjet me tell you, Colonel, that you are treating me like 
a phoenix ; a thing 1 am not used to. 

Hardy. What do you mean by treating you like a 
phoenix ? 

Pry. Tossing me out of the frying-pan into the fire. 
What I tell you is true I gave the alarm, but the fel- 
low was so nimble that he escaped ; while your servants, 
seeing me run as if 1 had been running for a wager, 
mistook me for the man, set the dogs after me ; and, in 
short, I am well off to have escaped with my life. 

Hardy. If this be true, what has become of the other I 
the gates are closed, and 

Pry. He's safe enough, I'll answer for it. Though 
I could not overtake him, I never lost sight of him. foA- 

4* 



42 PAUL PRr. [Poole. 

serving a signal made by Phehe.) O bo ! that explains 
the m'vsterv; some swain of Mrs. Phebe's. 

Hardy. What has become of him, I sa}'? I'll not be 
trifled with — you are the only- trespasser, I discover, 
and you will I commit, unless 

Pry. Oh if that's he case. \'ou need not nod and wink 
at me, ladies: the matter is growing" serious, and T have 
already suffered sufficiently. He's here, Colonel, I saw 
him ^et in at that window. 

Phe. Oh, the wretch ! a likely story, a man gel in at 
that window, and we not see him : why we have not 
been out of the room this half hour, have we, miss ? 

Hard)/, fio you hear that ? a likely story indeed ! If 
you saw him, describe him. 

Pry. Describe him ! how can I describe him ? I tell 
you be was running* like a g-reyhound ; he didn't wait 
for 've to take his portrait He goi up at that window, 
and I'll swear he didn't get down again, so here he 
must be. [crosses to centre, and looks under sofa and 
tahh.) 

Pile- It is a pity, Mr. Pry, you have no business of 
your own to employ you. — Aye, that's right, look about 
here. You had better search for bim in my young lady's 
reticule, (snatches reticule fi^om Eliza.) 

Pry. Stand aside, Mrs. Phebe, and let me 

Phe. Why you abominable person — that is Miss 
Eliza's room : how dare you open the door ? 

Hardy. You abominable person ! how dare you open 
my daughter's room door ? 

Pry If there's no one conceal'd there, why object .'* 

Hardy. True, if there's no one concealed there, why 
object .'' 

Phe. I wonder, sir, you allow of such an insinuation. 
[places herself at the door.) No one shall enter this 
room ; wo stand here upon our honour ; and if yoif sus- 
spuct ny young lady's, what is to become of mine, I 
shoui I hke to know ? 

Prj/ Cant possibly say; but I would advise you to 
look after it, for I protest — there he is. 



Actn.'] PAUL PRF. 43 

Hardy, [endeavouring to suppress his anger.) Sir, 
you are impertinent. It cannot be, and 1 desire you 
will quit my house — Simon ! [goes up to cenite door.) 

Enter Simon. 
Simon, open the door for Mr. Pry. 

Phe, Simon, you are to open the door for Mr. Pry. 

Pry. Oh, I dare say Simon hears. — I ',rish you a very 
g-ood morning — I expected to be asked to dinner for 
this at least — this is most mysterious — I say, Simon ! 

[^Exit., whispering Simon. 

Hardy, (who has taken a brace of pistohfrom a case 
on the table.) I would not appear in the presence of 
that busy fool; but now, whoever he is, he shall answer 
this outrage to me. 

Eliza. Oh, pa, for heaven's sake, I'll tell you the 
truth. 

Phe. Yes, sir, we will tell you, (aside.) What shall 
I say ? 

Hardy. Tell me at once, hussey — is there a man in 
the room ? 

Phe. Why then, sir, there is a sort of a young man 
to besure — but • 

Hardy. But what ? 

Phe. But don't be angry, for he is the prettiest little 
fellow you ever saw. 

Hardy. A little fellow ! A man is concealed in my 
house, and because he happens not to be the Irish gi- 
ant, I must not be angry. Oh ! that my nephew, Frank, 
were as home ; but I'm still young enough to 

Phe Stay, sir, stay — (aside.) any thing to gain time, 
and prevent murder. You have guessed it, it is your 
nephew, Mr. Frank. 

Hardy. What, Frank! my boy, Frank .? 

Phe. Yes, sir^ arrived a week earlier than was ex- 
pected. We, Miss Eliza and I, sir — we were m the 
secret, and had planned a httle surprise for you, but 
that eternal Mr. Pry spoilt it. 

Hardy. Oh, you wicked little rebels, to cause me all 
this uneasiness — but let me see the dear boy— let me — 



44 PAUL PRY. [Poole. 

Phe. Stop, sir, I'll just inform him that 

Hird'i, Don't detain an instant, (going towards the 
door) W" lat Frank, come to your old uncle, you dog; 
— why zounds ! what is he at now ? scarcely is he in at 
one window, but he is preparing to jump out at another. 

{Exit 
Eliza- Phebe, what have you done ? my pa must 

soon delect the imposture, and then 

Phe. Lord, IVIiss, what would have been the conse- 
quence if the Colonel, in that storming passion, and 
with pistols in his hand, had been told the truth. We 
may yet get your Harry safe out of the house, and 
then — hush ! 

Enter Harry leading in Harry Stanley. 
Hardy Come, Frank, an end to this foolery. Phebe' 
has explained it all to me ; I'm dev'lish glad to see you, 
and that is worth all the surprises in the world 
Harry. Sir — I — what is the meaning of this? 
Pke. We have told your unexpected arrival, Mr. 
Frank Hardy. 

Harry, (aside.) Oho ! my uncle ; 'gad, then, I'll soon 
make myself one of the family. 

Hirdy. But let me look at yju, you rogue; I have 
not seen you since you were a mere urchin. As Phe- 
be says, he is a pretty little follow. But I say, Frank, 
you don't take after the family. Your father was a tall 
man : all tall men in our family. 

Harry. W'ly I am not positively a giant, uncle ; but 
what does that signify? Nelson was a little fellow like 
myself — so not an mch taller will I grow 

Hardy. Ah, ha, you are a wag. But tell me, Frank, 
when you found yourself pursued, and in danger of a 
drubbmgfrom my servants, why didn't you at once dis- 
close yourself to be my nephew ? 

Harry Eh — to say the truth, that never once occur- 
red to me 

Hardy. Well, your secret was in good hands with 
the girls. I was in a thundering passion to besure — 
your poor cousin has scarcely yet recovered from her 
agitation. » 



Act II.] P^U^ PJJy^ ^^ 

//arr-y. Ah, sir I know not how I shall atone to my 
o^raltdtr""'""""^"^ "'^ thoughtlessness hal 

Eliza. I'll never, never forg-ive you 

iJar^y. What's that 1 hear? when' I have forgiven 
his vn\d sailor prank, how dare any body Go Frank 

you7ear" """ " ^""' "' ''^^ '^°^^"^^- *-"- -"-t 

cle^lS/lla^^^^ any disobedience of mine, un- 

Eliza Ha' done, Mr. Stan— ha' done, cousin thaf 

will do. [as.de.) Pn. glad he is obedient to'pa SgJ^ '' 

be angry. '' """ '""'''" "'^^ ^"^ °°^ ^^^^ «^«"»d 

asfnirnrV '^""^ ^""^ ^^''^ '"^' P'^^^^^ ^^^^^ ' jour hps are 
as tull of forgiveness as mine are of repentance I'll an 
sw:r for it [kisses Phebc.) F«niance, i a an- 

I r5Tf^" F'^T' ""T^' *^''^"^^' >'0" are forgiven, fa-m/e^ 
Shall have him asking pardon of all the maids in fh^ 
house. Now, Frank, I 'have news for vou Eliza s 
soon to be married. ^ J^iiza is 

Hat^ry. x\Tarried, sir? 

Hardy. Married, aye, married. I was resolved to 
leferjl^ceremony'tii your return. So now you are 

Harry. Thnt was very kind; and whenever Eliza 
names, you may be sure I will be at the wedding. And 
>ray, sir, wlio is the happy man > ^ 

ici^rt: J'"''/' '^'' ''^""- ^^"°"'' ^"d ^hat IS suf. 
icient lor ail parties. 

Harry. Certainly, sir; but pray does my cousin love 

f^rdy Ko, but she may if she likes. I'm not one 
f those yrannical fathers who vvould control the aifec 
tons of their duidren. iNo, no, I leave my dauglUer oL" 
distress 01 her inchnations; free either to love her hus 
and, or to leave it alone, as she thinks best? 



f 



46 PAUL PRY» [Poole- 

Harry, How indulgent a parent. Now suppose, sir, 
I should" object to vour arran<?ement ? ..si 

Ha-dy. You object, you jackapes .' Hark'ye, it is ra- j 
tber the soonest for you and I to quarrel ;— now that we | 
m-'.y remain friends, you will please to recollect, that i 
althou"-h I am willinc^ to listen to reason, argrument, and j 
advice, it must proceed from those who have the good | 
sense to be exactlv of my way of thinking. But, if any i 
one dare contradict or oppose me, 1— no— I am not like 
my poor friend 'Vitherton, f am lord, master, and sove- 
reign arbiter in my own familv. 

Harrij. {to Eliza, aside.) Then our only hope is the 
yellow post-chaise. 

Hard)/. But come, Frank, your flying leaps must 
have given you an appetite; so follow me, and take a 

Ha'rrij. fll follow you, sir. [Exit Hardy.) ^Ty dear 
Phebe, what could induce you to risk such an imposi- 
tion upon the Colonel.? we cannot long escape detec- 
tion. , 

Phe. As you said, sir, when you came in at the win- 
dow, '^ Any port in a storm," and such a storm as we 
should have had if you had been abruptly discovered inj 
your own character 

Harry. vVell, here I am installed as your cousm ; it 
will be very pleasant as Ion- as it lasts ; but I fear we 
shall pay dearly for it in the end. 

Eliza I tremble to think of the consequences. Har- 
ry, what colour did you say was Mr. Doubledol's post- 

chaise . 

Harry. The prettiest runaway colour imaginable — 

will you go and look at it .'' 

Phe. Nonsense, nonsense, we must do nothmg rash. 
Your cousin, the real Mr. Frank Hardy, will not be 
here for a week, so we have plenty of time for conside- 
ration. Why, I declare, here is Mr. Pry again ! [Pry 
appears at the door.) 

Pry. Tliere he is. A most extraordinary circum 
stance. The letter is a good excuse for my return 
(aside.) , 



JLct //.] PAUL PRY. 47 

Eliza. Why he is makmg- signs at me. 
Harry. The devil he is ; he shall anstrer that to me. 
W^hat do you want, sir ? (brings down Pry between him- 
self and Eliza.) 
Pry. Nothing-. 

Harry Look'ye, Mr. Scout. I owe you a round 
dozen for sailing in chase of me this morning: now, ex- 
plain the signals you were hanging out to my own dear 

little — to my cousin, Miss Hardy, — or 

Pry. Your cousin ? So then you are the nephew from 
sea, after all. My dear su\ you are welcome to Eng- 
land. 

Harry. Come sir, no evasion ; explain or over- 

boarl you go. {pointing to the window ) 

Pry. Holloa ! well, this comes of doing a civil thing. 
Harry. Come, come, sir, be quick, or you'll find me 
as good as my word. 

Pry. There then, since you will have it. (gives Eli- 
za a letter ) I intended to give it to you mysteriously ; 
but hang me, if ever 1 do a good natured thing again. 
Eliza, [looking at it ) There was no need of mystery, 

sir. (To Harry.) It is from my cousin Frank but 

how came this letter in your possession .'' It ought to 
have been delivered by the postman. 

Pry. No matter. — I am always in the wrong. 
Eliza. Why, it is a week old. 

Pry. That is because I promiscuously forgot it. (to 
Phebe.) Because 1 am a good natured fool, and do all / 
can to oblige. I met the postman the other day, and as 
/always make it a rule to inquire who has letters, I 
found there was one for you ; (to Eliza) and I thought 
it would be but civil if I brought it to you. 

Phe. Where the deuce was the civility of your doing 
what the postman must have done .'' 

Pry. Where ? why he had his rounds to go ; so that 
Miss EUza would have her letter five minutes earlier 
than by waiting for him, if it had not slipped my memo- 
ry for a week, [goes up.) 

Eliza, (who has been reading the letter) Heavens! it 
is all over with us, Fhcbe ; my cousin Frank will really 



48 PAUL PRY. [Poole. 

he here to-day. This letter was to apprise us of his ar- 
rival a week sooner than we expected. 

Phe. There ! now is our only hope, which was in 
leisure for deliberation, destroyed — and through his in- 
terference again. If he had not kept that letter in his pock- 
et for a week, we should have been prepared for your 
cousin's arrival ; and our present difficulty, at least, 
would have been prevented. 

Enter Simoiv 

Simon, {to Harrtj.) My master waits for you, sir, and 
is g-rowing impatient. 

Harry. I'll come. Let us g-o to the Colonel, /'ll de- 
sire some excuse for leaving him — intercept Frank on 
his vva^ hither — enlist him in our cause — and then throw 
ourselves on your father's mercy. 

Plie. I wish you joy of this mercy, when he discovers 
the trick we have played him. 

Eliza. Mr Pry, if you did but know — 

Phe. {interrupting her.) Nothing. — Simon, Mr. Pry 
is waiting till you open the door for him again. 

Harry. And Mv. Pry may consider himself fortu- 
nate (pointing to the loindow) that I have not spared you 
that trouble, vSimon. {^Exeunt Mary, Eliza and Phebe. 

Pry. Well, I have done my utmost to serve this wor- 
thy family ; and all I have gained by it is So, Si- 
mon, the young spark turns out to be your master's-ne- 
phevv, after all .'' 

Simon, [pointing off.) Now, sir, if you please. 

Pry. He intends that as a hint, 1 suppose, — Well, 
that letter appeared to perplex them. I shant be able 
to rest till I have come to the rights of it. — Ecod ! I'll 
go down to Doubledot's, and just inquire whether he 
happens to know any thing about it. 

\^Exit Simon and Pry. 

END OF ACT IIj 



ACT III. 

SCE^E 1; — A Room at Doubledot's. 

Pattl Try discovered dangling a neivspaper, and at inter- 
vals, durmu; fns speech, he txamines t he books and di/fer- 
cnl articles about the room. 

Pry, Well, Doubledot docs not return. Out, out fro^n 
Jriorniu- till night. ¥/hat can he have to do out ' No 
wonder the Green Draj,>on carries all before it— but if 
men wont attend to their business— (co7//i/5 a 5f«re. ) Two 
and twenty. Upon my life, it is very discreditable to run 
sucn a score at a public house :— who can it be ? marked 
with an S-s. I'll lay my life it is Mrs. Sims-that wo- 
«jan owes money at every shop in the vilii;ge. 
Doubledot speaks without. 

Double. This way, sir, if you please. 

Pry. Oh, at last. A traveller with him— I wonder who 
he 13. « 

Enter Doubledot and Frank Hardy. 
. ^"uble.(rery obsequiously atjirst, but gradualti^ relaxing: 
m hismitjj.) This way, sir-will you please to take 
any thing after your journey I 

Frank. No, nothing. 

Double. Will you order your dinner now sir > 

• . ?u"^; ^ ^^^^^ """^ "^'"^ ^'^^^•- Let my lu-gage be broH 
in.o the house, and remain here for the present. 

Double. Ah ! u precious customer. A glass' of water 
and a tooth pick, (aside.) , 

Pry- I say Doubledot -a good quantity of In^srarrg for 
one person. He is alone. Do you happen to knSw" who 

Double. No— but you very soon will, PU answer for 

f TP ' f 

Frank. Now to proceed to my good old uncle's. After 
nj absence of so many years, I shall scarcely be rero^^niz- 
=a by hrni. As for Eliza, who was a mere child at the pr- 
10(1 ol my departure— ' 



-^ 



50 PAUL PRX. [Poo/Cj 

Pry. Pleasant journey, sir ? 

Frank. Very pleasant, sir. I 

Pry. From London, sir ? { 

Frank. No, sir. ' 

Pry. O, not from London. Stay long in these parts, 
sir ? 

Frank. Quite uncertain, sir. — A tolerably inquisitive 
fellow this. 

Pry. Shy — don'tlike him — something mysterious about 
him. I'm determined to find out who he is. Beg pardon 
sir, if I'm not mistaken, your name is — a — 

Frank. You are right, sir, Snooks. Now sir, allow me 
to ask you a question. Is it far hence to Col. Hardy's? 

Pry. Oh, you know him ! Do you happen to know his \ 
nephew who has just come ho.ne from sea .'' 

Frank. Come — coming, you mean. 

Pry. Jome, I tell you. He arrived this morning. 

Frank. What, his nephew, Frank H\rdy? 

Pry. The same. 1 saw him with my own eyes. Come 
in a very odd way too. {aside.) The intelligence appears 
to perplex him. 

Frank, (aside.) What can this mean ? — a person there 
assuming my name ! Doubtless soini- piece of roguery is ! 
intended, which my timely arrival may prevent. I'll find i 
some future pretence for visiting the family as a stranger, 
and ob^erve what is going forward before I declare myself. 

Pry. (aside.) An adventurer. 

Frank. The colonel, I believe, sir, enjoys a rcputatioQ 
for hospitality. Do you imagine he would refuse the visit 
of a stranger ? — a gentleman travelling for his pleasure, 
■who wishes to be favoured with a view of his grounds — 
his pictures. 

Pry. (hes Hating;.) No s\r.— (aside.) A travelling gen- 
tleman — the case is clear. 

Frank. There is no time to be lost, sir. I must be 
plain with you It is my intention to pay colonel Hardy a 
visit ; the object of that visit is important, and that it may 
succeed, the utmost secrecy and cauiionare requisite. 

Pry. Indeed ! (aside.) Very cool upon my word. 

Frank. To use your own expression, " beg pardon if I 
am mistaken" — but you appear to me to be one of those 

i 



Act HI. ] , PA1EJL PRY. 5^ 

good-natured, inquisitive, officious persons, who abound in 
such places as this. Now if you mention to any soul 
breathiu^that you have seen me, you may have cause to 
repent your indiscretion. {Exit. 

Pry. Sir, yours. Not the shadow of a doubt what sort 
of a gentleman he is. Yet he looks like a °;entleman — 
but what of that, every pick pocket now-a-days is des- 
cribed as a ymith of prepossessing appearance, and every 
disorderly woman (alcea before a magistrute, is sure to be 
young and interesting. IVow, what ought I to do in this 
case ^ I hate to interfere with other people's business.—* 
Yet in a matter like this — I'll take a short cut to the 
house, be beforehand with the travelling gentleman, put 
the colonel on his guard, and for once force him to ac- 
knowledge the value of my services. {Exii. 

SCENE ^d.—At Hardfs. Same as in Act 2d. 

Enter Hardy, Marian, and Willis. 

Hardy. What! mirry his housekeeper ! marry another 
subtle ! The old fool ! The old dotard ! Oh, that I were 
his father for one quarter of an hour, that I might enjoy 
the paternal gratification of breaking every bone in his 
body. 

Willis. Fortunately the evil is not yet accomplished, 
and your interference may prevent it. 

Hardy . But how did you learn this ? 

Willis. My suspicions long existing of such an intention 
•were confirmed by a desperate altercation between Grasp 
and Mrs. Subtle, which I have just had the good fortune 
to overhear. Grasp having detected her schemes upon 
my uncle, and enraged at her duplicity towards himself, 
threatened, even at the peril of his own ruin, to expose 
the intrigues she had so long carried on against me. Mrs. 
Subtle, presuming on her strong influence over Mr. With- 
erton, scoffed at his menaces, dared him to do his worst, 
and defied him to the proof of his accusation, till Grasp, 
hinting at certain letters which unknown to her he had 
preserved, she instantly moderated her haughty tone, pro- 
mised compliance with any arrangement he might propose, 
and once more I believe they are friends. 



52 PAUL PRY. [Poole. 

Hardy. Friends I accomplices you mean. But let 'me 
see, what's to bo done? First do you return both of you, 
and— 

Manan. I wish that could be avoided. Mrs. Subtle 
alre.tdy as«ume5 (he mistress, and has expressed her de- 
tei iiin ttion to dismi-s'me, and — 

Hiirdy. Thnt will do. You shall take her at her word. 
Yv: jhall remain concealed here for awhile; egad, and 
so :'h\\\ you, Somers. 

JVi.Uis. To what purpose ^Ir? 

liar. Leave it to me. 'Tis here, His here, {striking 
his forehead.') Go in my study; there you wdl be free 
fro.n oh.^ervition, no one dares 40 there without my leave. 
I'll coine 'o yTu presently, and dictate a letter you shall 
send to Withertoo, which, if it does not bring him to his 
senses, he is incorriirible. 

JVulis. How shall we thank you for the interest you 
take .n our behalf? 

HiT. By leavin* me to myself for a few minutes. I 
hav« ray hand-> full of business already, ]leve is a letter I 
havp just, reco v d from an old friend, relative to a run- 
away -01 of 111? ! then there's my nephew Frank,who is 
returned. But 2:0, go — if my daui<-hter, or her chatter- 
ing maid, should see you her*.' together, 1 would not give 
you live minutes purchase for your secret. 

Mar. Wf wdl act implicitly by j'our advice, sir. 

Har. Do o, and I wdl yet blow all Mrs. Subtle'i 
schemes — no matter where. (^Exit., Marian and Willis.) 

//•r. No .V just let (ne look at old Stanley's letter again, 
befoie I commiinirate its contents to my nephew, {reads) 
*'My boy, Harry, who is a hair-brained, harenj-scaretn 
fellow, mounted horse, and gal!f)()ed away, the moment I 
mentioned a wife for him of my choosing. He has been 
met on the road towards your place, and I suspect that 
notwithstand-ig our secrecy, he has discovered who the 
girl IS, and has a mind to see her before he positively re- 
jects her. Should this be the case, and he fall in your way, 
pray d • you humour his incoijnitn, for no doubt he has 
ado;>ted oiip, and detain him Mil n)y arrival, which will 
spee Idy fdlnw y-ur re'^npt of this.'' Ah, this is very 
pretty, but what right h.is any man, to come, and look at 



.^Ct IIL] PAUL PRY. 53 

my daughter; to take her, or have her, as he would a 
horse. My Lizzy, is a wite for an emperor; I know it, 
Ihcit's enough, and I wont allow any man to — (calls ovtof 
windoio.) Here, you Frank, I want you. (listening.) — 
Coinin* sir, then Wiiy the devil don't you come. There is 
he tied to the women's apron strings. Hang me, if I have 
been able tokeep him with me, <luring three consecutive 
quarters of a minute since — here he has been. 

lEnter Harry Stanley — Eliza and FkebCj hanging on 
each arm.^ 

Harry. You call me, sir ? 

Har. Yes ; but I didn't call all three of you. Yet here 
you go about with your heads together like three conspira- 
tors, as if you were hatching another gunpowder treason. 

Hirry. Ca>i you be surprised at my prefernng the com- 
pany of my dear, little — cousin, to yours, sir? But what 
have you to say to me, sir ? 

Har. Something' that touches the honor of us all. Your's, 
your's — and (to P/tebe,) even your's, if you have any res- 
pect for your mistress. 

Harry, (aside.) Am I discovered? 

Hiir. I have reason to believe that a certain person ia 
in this neighbourhood, cruizmg under false colors, as you 
would call it. 

Hurry. Ah, sir, then I suppose you expect that he should 
face to the right about, and beat a retreat as you would 
call it. 

Har. No, you jackanapes, I neither expect, nor intend 
any such thing. I intend to humour the deception, and 
then take him by surprise. 

Phe. (aside.) You have but one chance for it, sir, con- 
fess at once — confess. 

Harry. Our only hope, I believe. Then what if he 
should confess his error, ask pardon for his indiscretion^ 
and throw himself on your mercy. 

Hir. Why then, I should say, take ray daughter, and 
may you be happv toafether. 

Harry. Would you, sir, why then — (taking Eliza by 
the hand, and lurniag towards him.) 

Har. But not 30 fast. You don't know your uncle yet, 
Frank. I'll first punish him for his impertinence? How 

5 * 



54 PATTL PRt. [Paole ' 

dare he, when it is gpttlfd, that he shall marry ir^y lAzzf, 
presnnv-? tn have a < iioi'^e of his own. And because he has 
not vo' ^P' n hpr, how dare he — 

El'zu. Not yet se^n me ! who are you talking about pa? 

Hnr. Your intended husband to be sure, Mr.— (/o St- 
mon^ who inters.) 

Sinton. Mr. Paul Pry, sir, sends Iiis compliments, and 
wish*^-, lo?ee}'-on (in most important busines-s. 

Hnr. Eiernat.'y iha) Nlw P-.ml Pry; my (omplimento, 
anil I ^.,1 not at hom«». (Exit Sinion.) 1 i2;ue?s what his 
im;o)?ant business i^ !:k'?ly to be. He comes to look for 
a •^hoi -ttrinjr, or tell m« f^ome nonsensical event that has 
ocnrred in ihe neighbourhood. 

Pry. (irilhoul.) Fooh, pooh, ihis is no time for ceremo- 
ny, so see hini I must. 

Phe. I am sup'rstiiious about that Mr. Pry. A wind- 
in;j:-sheet in the candle, or spillin;^ the salt, is less ominous 
of evil, than the approarh of that man. 
Kilter Paul Prv. 

Pry. Colonel, you must pur<iou the intrusion, but I came 
to \f\\ y<iu 

Har. Well, be quirk. Whose cat in tlie villaj^e has 
kittened.'' How many blitid pupjiies ha'j'e yon r neighbors- 
drowned. Come, intlirt iij on me the lull and true par- 
ticulars, and make an end of it. 

Pry. Colonel I don't undcrstaml. There is treason, 
and a plot in the wind, and I came like a o;nod-natured fool 
as I am, to put you on your g^uard. But there is no time- 
to spare, lie is now on hi? way hither. 

Hardy. He ! and who is he ? and what is he.' 

Pry. An imposture — an adventurer — or something' of 
that mysterious naturV-. A travoiliiifj f::entloma:i, as he 
calls himself. He has just arrived, and luckily for you, i 
have wormed his intentions nut oi him. 

Hardy. Well, well, and what ate his intention? .'' 

Pry. To of<t into yam' house under pretence ol seeing' 
your pictures — lookin;; at 3'^our ^[rounds — 

Hardy, {aside.) 'i'hat's my man. Well, and what i-^ 
there so exiraordinary in that ? 

Pry. Oh, nothing:. But when a man failc? abnut the 
object of his visit, requiring' tlie ntrnost secrecy and cau- 
tion — when he asks s uspicious qutilions — 



*.4c^ ///.'{ PAUL PRY. 65 

Hardy. What do you call suspicious questions .'* 
' Prij. First, he ask'd me whether you are of a hospita- 
ble turn, which I lake to be very suspicious. If you had 
but seen him when I told him of the arrival of your ne- 
phew, Mr. Frank, he staggered — absolutely staggered. — 
" What, his nephew P' says he, " Firank Hardy 1'' 

Eliza, {to Stanley.) Surely this must be my cousin 
Frank. 

Harry. I'll away, and prepare him. 

I-'he. No, leave tliat to me. My absence will not be 
remarked. {Exit. 

Hardy. Pray, did he mention his name ? 

Pry. Name? Bless you, these fellows have a name for 
«very town in the kingdom. Ke calls himself Snooks — 
fout lord bless you — 

Hardy, (aside.) The cautious rogue. But I'll be even 
with him.- No, no, it isn't my pictures he comes to see. 

Pry. You may well say that — (aside.) — This time, 
ihowever, he will acknowledge his obligations to me. 

Hardy. Now, Mr. Pry, it is proper I should tell you, 
Ihat 1 was already prepared for this visit. I know who the 
-person is, and have most serious reasons for humouring his 
frolic. I know you to be a busy, meddling, talkative per- 
son, and therefore warn you, that if you breathe a hint of 
having [)ut me on (ny guard, as you call it — you know me, 
£o I need say no more. 

Pry. W-ell, between the two — colonel Hardy, you are 
a magistrate, and I — 1 have'nt a shilling about me, or I'd 
make oath in your presence nev^r to do a good-natured 
thing again whilst I live. (Exit. 

Harry, (aside.) If I could but see him. Had'nt I bet- 
ter go and inquire into the truth of this, sir .'' That blun- 
dering booby confuses every thing. 

Hardy. No, sir, you will please stay where you are. (to 
Eliza.) This is he, my love — this Mr. Saooks, as he calls 
ijimself, is Ihe person you are to marry. 

Eliza. Oh, papa, and would you have me marry a man 
"with such a name ? I could not if he were a lord. 

Hardy. No, my dear, no — that is not his name. I may 
lell you now — liis name is — no, I won't. His project in this 
.incognito, and vaxne in humouring it, might both be defeat- 



5§ PAUL PRYi^ [Pooler 

eJ, by your inadrcrlently naming hi a> — sbtissafe as it ia. 
(^To himself.') But ( I'orget my prisoners. Frank, I have 
business that will orcU[)y me lor a few minutes in mystudv*. 
ShoulJ this 2;eiitloinan arrive b<=fore my return, you, a? my 
nephew, will do the honours for nie. And you, my little 
darhng-, will remember, Ihut as he is your intcndf d hus- 
band, you mast endeavour — 'out 1 nec'l say no more — that 
hint is always suliicieot to put a w.jiuan to her sweetest 
looks and best behaviour. (£,r//. 

Harry. I am in a pleasant dilemma here. Should this 
be Frank, I must cease to Jict your cousin. Should it be 
the person your father expects, good bye to my hopes of 
becoming your husband. 

Enler PriEBE. 

Pke. Where is the colonel? 

Harry. In his study. 

Phe. 'Tis Mr. Frank himself. But be not pdarmetl. 
I have prepared him by a hasty narrative of the events of 
the morning:, and he has proinised to make one of our party^ 
You may come in, sir. ]■ 

Enter P^'ra.vk Hardy. ^ 

Frank. IMy dear cousin I {embraces Eliza.) Whal^ 
•Harry, my old shipmate ? 

Eliza. And is tins my little cousin Frank? How much 
he has grown since he was a little boy ! 

Frank. We are both somewhat chiinged. I left home 
a boy, and return a man. I left you [)lay!ng with a dol!, 
and find you manoeuvering for a hu-^baud. This pretty 
maid has informed me of your prnceedings. But pray, my 
dear fellow, does it occur to you that we arc in a devil of a 
scrape here ? 

Harry. And pray, my dear fellow, does it occur to you 
how I am to get out of it ? 

Frank, {puinting to Ihc window.) That seems the 
shortest way. 

Hurry. Th'^t way led me into it, and I never take th? 
same road twice. 

Frank. But since my uncle does'nt expect two nephews, 
one of us must abdicate. 

Phe. I hope you did\it come all the way from the anti- 
podes to tell us that, sir. That — th':«t must be the end of 



.5c7 ///;] PAUL PRY. 57 

it we know ; but if you were at all acquainted with your 
uncle's character, you woulil conceive that there might be 
some danger in an abrupt disclosure of the deceptioa we 
have been forced to put upon him. 

Frank. Ho w forced ? 

Phe. Why, as I told you by the way, sir, to prevent 
lord knows what mischief. 

Frank. Hark ye — you and I are old friends'; — you love 
my cousin, she loves you, and if my assistance is likely to 
promote your union, you may command it. Would your 
father consent to it ? , 

' Hiirry. I doubt that, for he has a scheme of his own for 
my marriage. So my notion is to mari'y first, and ask his 
consent afterwards, 

Eliza. Stop, I have an idea. 

Pke. (aside.) At last ! If it be really an idea, she 
never carae honestly by it— (nowe without.') Hush I I 
tre nble at every sound. Til go and see what it is. {Exit. 

H'lrry. Now for your idea. 

Eliza. I ilread my pa's anger, and dai"e not see him till 
he is pacifif^d. Now if Harry were to force me to run away 
with him — whilst you — 

Frank. That is a step I will not sanction. Be prudent, 
or I abandon you. But pray tell, since I am not to be my- 
self, who am I ? 

Jlarrij. Why the colonel expects his protege. He 
believes you are the person, and — 

Frank. That will never do, for should he really ar- 
rive, our difficulty will be increased, and — 

H.irri/. {aside.) I long to throw myself into his arms, 
yet dare not. 

Enter Hardy. 

Hardij. We have despatched the letter, and if that 
fail to arrouse old Witherton to a sense of his humiliation 
— ha, there he is. Now Til teach him to come here and 
take my whole family as it were upon trial. Sir, I believe 
1 have the honour of addressing the travelling gentleman 
who has expressed a desire to see my pictures. 

Frank. Sir— I — 

Hardy. Sir, I entreat you will use no ceremony — visit 
Unygrounda-^examine my furniture — settle your opinion 



m 



58 PAUL PRY. {^Pooh 

upon every Ihin* and every borly in my honse. This is 
my daughter — (lakes her by the hand) my daughter, sir— 
you understand. I hope you like her. This is my nc- 
j)hevv Fcank. What is your opinioa of him ? How d'ye 
like me .'' 

Frank. So well, sir^ (hat if I were lo choose an uncle 
for myself, you would be the very man. 

Hardy. Well, that's one point in our favour. But we 
have not done yet — my dinners — my wine? — it is impor- 
tant that tliose should be to your sati*fariion, young gen- 
tleman ; — so I shall request the satisfaction of your com- 
pany at dinner to-day. 

Frank. Aye, sir, and to-morrow, and every day for a 
month to come, if you please. 

Hardy. And if any thin* in my house, dead or alive, 
should displease you, you understand — pray use no cere- 
mony in mentioning it. 

Frank, (aside.) What the deuce does he mean? — 
Sir, I assure you that every thing here is perfectly lo my 
taste. 

Hardy^ If not, Mr* Snooks has but to gallop to towu 
again, and no party you understand is compromised by his 
visit. 

Frank. tJpon my soul, sir, I do not understand — but 
Snooks — oh, I perceive the chattering fellow I met at the" 
inn, ha= spoken to you about me, and be hanged to him. 

Hardy. No matter sir, I am very proud of the honour 
you intend me, and letlhat suflir-e. 

Harry. Don't contradict him, or he'll talk for a month-. 

Hardy And now, sir, that no time may be lost, sup- 
pose you commence your inspection at once by a ramble, 
about my gfrounds. If you please, my daughter shall ac- 
company you ; but if that is in the least disagreeable, 
prav say so. 

Harry. (Jo Eliza.) Come, and thank heaven for this 
respite. 

Hardy. W!i::it the deuce, Frank, (srparafes them) do- 
the civil thing to the travelling gentleman. Will it be ia 
any way disagreeable to you, sir, to g:ive my daughter 
your arm ? 

Frank. Let this attest, that it is thi most agreeable; 
thing you cotild have projxwed to me, sir. 



id IIL'] PAVL YBTl. 69 

Hnrdi/. (aside.) I am sorry it is so. 1 almost wish he 
had disliked her, that his marriage might have been a 
punishment to him fnr presuming to have a choice of his 
.own. But his father will soon he here — and then — 

Enter Phebe wilfi a kfy. 
Well, what is the matter with you? What has alarmed 
o.i ? Is the house on fire ? Why don't you answer ? 

PUe. Alarmed ! no sir, I am not alarmed ; but Grasp, 

•Jr. Withertou's steward, wishes to see you — and running 

) tell you has taken my breath away, that's all, sir. ^ 

Hardy. So, the letter has produced its eflect I imagme. 

■Pke. Ke seems in a violent rage, so pray go to him, 

Harly. Well, why need you be so alarmed about it ? 
ut you have nerves, I suppose. Ah, the luxury and re- 
leiiient of the times. Here's a chambermaid sent^ into 
*3 world with as fiae a set of nerves as a duchess. VW go 
the man. You'll excuse me for a short time, Mr. tra- 
iling gentleman, Frank and my daughter will supply m/ 
ace. (Exit. 

EUz:t. Phebe, what are you so flurried about ? Is it 
: ;Uly Mr. Grasp, or have you deceived my pa ? 
Phe. No, miss, no, that's true enough— but I wish it 
-re the whole truth. He's come at last, and I have luin 
nder lock and key. 
Eliza. Who, the young man? 
Pke. Young I why miss he's fifty. 

Harry You have mistaken the person then; 'lis a 
,>ung man the colonel expects. 

Plit. The colo.el speaks of him as he was, wh<-n they 

ere a?soeiates, without considering how mahy years have 

.ssed since. I am certain 'tis he, for he ask'cl to ^ce the 

ide— that v/as enough forme. I thrust him into the 

eakfast parlour, and locked the door. Here, take the 

,'v, and settle your Bis-tters now as best you may. 

Harry. They'll be easily settled ; Qakes the key.) \ 

we but one way of treatius; with a rival. Either he 

, i-t rellnquiih his claims, or I shall leave the point to be 

4U8d by a brace of the most persuasive tongues of any 

.. (he kingdom. Come with me, Frank. 

Frank. Hold, you have chosen to be u^y representative 

Lh my uncle, I shall therefore take your place with your 



60 PAUL FRY. [Poole, 

rival, and try what may be done by more temperate mea- 
Mires. Come, come, Harry, stay where you are. You 
are too deeply iateresteJ in the i^sue to be as cool a? cir- 
cumstances may re^M^e. So leaA'e the interview entirely 
tome. "^ * 

Harry. On one condition I will; that if you do not suc- 
ceed in persuading him to abandon the engagement he is 
under with your uncle, you will then turn my gentleman 
over to my care, and I warrant you — 

Frank. Say no more, 'tis granted. Come, Phebe, show 
me to the drag;on 1 am to vanquish. 

Eliza. And tell him, Frank, that I can never love him 
— that we shall never be happy tog^ether — and that the* 
I may be obliged to marry him to please my {)a, I shall 
never do any thing to please him. 

(Exeunt Ht/rri/, FAiza., and Frank. 

Phe. Well, when I marry, [Ml not leave the choice of 
a partner to the colonel. Tlie man would be well enough 
for a grandfather, but ibr a husband — Miss Simpleton has 
catered much better for herself. Her Harry is a dashin:^ 
fellow, that's the truth on't. Here are some verses lie 
just slipt into my hand, {reads.) Well, his compliment is 
pretty enough, but I can't say murh for its r.ovclty. He 
compares my lips to cherries. Whilst Mr. Frank is gone 
for the letter, I'll get them by heart. 

SGErNE4th.— .^7/ Wilhertnn' s. Enter Wilherton. 

With. Marry ! — at the very sound I feel myself a happy 
and a contented man. Marry? — and yet at my age 'tis a 
step which ought not to be inconsiderately taken. Willis, 
{rings) his advice has served nie on more than one occa- 
sion. Ah, had my nephew been where he ougt^t, I had 
not needed the friendship of a stranger; but that 3'-ouu5 
man shall supply his place. 

Enter a Servant with a letter. 
Desire Mr. AVillis to come to me, 

IScrvt. Mr. Willis is gone, sir — and here is a letter for 
you, sir. (Exit. 

With. Gone! what does he mean? {opens the Ittjen 
and a letter from Marian, {reach hastih/.) What do I rea<i 
''Mr?. Subtle's tyranny, her overbnarinj; insolence, uun 



Act in.} TAVL PRY. 61 

ble any longer to endure it, by at once quittin-your house, 
and relinquishmo-your protection, aud 'lis with unfei-ned 
sorrovv aud re^^ret I lo so, I am but anticipating m} in- 
tended dismissal. W.llis, for reasons which ;«« Ihall 
know hereaiter, has resolved lo accompany me— Vlanan " 
Wlarian! my poor xMarian ! Driven from niy house- Wii- 
IH too. Does she already so presume ? I see my conduct 
now must determme the character I am to maintain here- 
after. I mu.t teach her that I can be master, or I sink lor- 
ever into the abject slave. 

Enler Mrs. Subtle. 
Mrs.^ S. The papers are destroyed— and now— 

W.m/?* ^'' ^^''' ^''^^^''' '^^"'"' '' Marian? where is 

Mrs. S. Gone ! 

mih. By whose authority are they dismissed ? yours ? 

h-fiht^' ^'^.'^l'\\'''''^,''^ ^'^ Why, how 

Ills tins r Kebellion? 

If'ilh. Have you done this, I say ^ 

Mrs S. No. And if I had, give me leave to say, sir- 
f?,o I perceive your error ; let me correct it while 

on roul'o'f a'"" '!' ''''' '" occasionally endured til: 
a wi?. R r"^' u"''^ ^'^ ^^^°'f ''^ ^he dominion of 

f.J r .^^'"^^b^^' besides, you assume the mistress 
somewhat prematurely. Let Willis and Marian be re. 

th^yTrf.'sfr."'^''-' Is this possible ? I know not where 
JVilk. Restore them to my house, or— 
Mrs S. Or you ^vould have me quit it. 
t-y Uk. I said not so. 

vof m;£ i,? ^'"'''-^ / ''"'""''" '^'''' ^^^^ «^«"^^" I would 
you make man y.^.r tyrant, you need but avow to iiim 
that >^u love. 'Tis clear you wish me gone. 

Mrs S T?' ^^?-.f i'^^'^' ^— -^^'t let them be recalled. 
jUrs. iy. They shall be sought alter. But was this well ^ 

t J rnTff h" ""^'-'-- -^ ^I-'-^ - young and hand! 

some, and if her presence here displeased me%ouid vou 
T/r'w',f ^^^' motive for my displeasure ^ 

^i//i. Well, dear Mrs. Subtle, say uo more I w-. npr 

'haps too hasty. Ah, here comes Hardy, ^ '''■ 

6. 



62 PAUL PRY. [Poo/e. 

Enter Hardy. 

Hardy. So, what is this I hear? You have dismissed 
Willis — poor Marian too — them whom 1 recommended to 
your care. 

With. Well, well, and were it so, am I not master in 
my own house .'' 

Hardy. No, there's the master of you, and your house 
too. But Pm aware of your intentions. Marry your 
housekeeper 1 How old are you ? Are you out of your 
teens? You have lon^ since arrived at the age of matu- 
rity, we'll say nothins; about years of discretion. 

With. Colonel, this is my house. 

Hardy. I understand — and when i have performed my 
errand, Pll leave you to the full enjoyment of it. if you 
marry, what is to become of your nephew ? Though when 
the settlements are drawn, I dare say Mrs. Subtle will 
take care the poor fellow shall be amply provided — for 
(/o iier) you have always been the friend of poor sinners, 
you know. 

Mrs. S. {aside.') Ah, is he there ? 

With. Provide for him ! PU cut him off with a sbillino;. 

Hardy. Do what? Do you know the meaning; of that 
trivial, dreadful phrase ? Would you carry your resent- 
ment beyoad the grave ? AnH you satisfied to enjoy the 
pleasure of reveni,'e as long as you live? Surely that is 
long enough (or the besi — for the worst of us. When we 
U'e, 'tis time our resentmoiit should expire too. 

With. You will be silent on tho subject of my nephew, 
if vou wish to preserve u)y friendship. 

ilardy. 'Tis to render you worthy of mine, that I speak. 
But this is no time for ceremony ; your eyes must be open- 
ed. Here, Grasp. 

Enter Grasp. 
You have for years been the duf)e of this precious pair — 
poor Soiners traduced — his letter? — your'o suppressed — fals- 
jfiyil — This honest gentleman, doubtt'ul of being able to 
persuade you of the truth of his confession, has taken 
the surer way of making it to me. 

With. I was already prepared for something of this 
nature, btit he has deceived you ; his motives are not ua- 
kiiowu lo me. 



^Ict III. ] PAUL PRY. 63 

Mrs. S. Lot liim speak, sir. What intrigues he may- 
have carried on against your nephew, I know not. What- 
ever he would charii^e upon inG,Jie must prove. His word, 
und^T present circumptances^ i^ as nothing. 

Hardij, I would give as little for the fellow's word as 
you would, whos«em to know its great value. SoyCome, 
sir, to the proofs you told me of. 

Mrs. Sr Aye, now villain ! 

Grasp. Aye, now you shall feel what it is to make a 
dupe o! me. (Exit. 

Hardy. Now when your eyes are opened, perhaps you 
will have no objection to acknowledge that you perceive 
the li^ht of the sun. 

Wilh. 'Tis a wicked imposture of his — the petty re- 
venge of disappointed hope. 

Mrs. S. Let them proceed, sir. 

Re-enter Grasp. 

Grasp. They are stolen — I am robbed, (/o Mrs. S. ) 
'Tis you have done this. 

TVilh. What say you? 

Mrs. S. This is too stale a device. 

Grasp, {to Hardy.) The papers I told you of — 'twas but 
this morning I saw ihem there — my desk has been opened. 
You, (to Mrs. S.) you alone had a motive for doing this. 

With. The trick is evident. Deliver up your key?, 
and quit my house. 

Hardy. There can be no objection to that. There will 
be one rogue the fewer in* it. (/« Grasp.) Do you persist 
in the truth of the disclosure you made to me.'' 
, Grasp. It matters not. You see which way the wind 
blows. 'Tis clear whatever may happen. I can no longer 
remain here, (to Wilherton.') Your blind folly deserves a 
bitt'^r punishment — marry her. (Exit. 

Hardy. IVow I dare say you consider this a triumph, 
but I have yet — 

Mrs. S. Mr. Witherton, v/hat further insult am I to re- 
ceive ^t the hand? of this gentleman ? 

Hardy. Hey-day! 

JVith. Colonol Hardy, I beg you will recollect that this 
lady '? to become — 

Hardy. La-Jy! Well, then, my lady pickle and pre- 
serve, smce it must be so. 



•64 PAUL PRY. [Poole, i 

JVith. Sir, the attempts to difgrace her in my esteem, 
thou'^h I doubt not ingeniously concerted, have failed. It 
remains with you to determine by your conduct towards 
her, whether 1 am to continue your friend. 

Hardij. My deternjinalion is taken Good morning to 
yen- 1 had prepared a surprise for you, which would have 
rendered you a happy man f'>r life. You shall not enjoy 
it, till you know better how to de?erve it. Good day. 
Enter Paul Pry. 

Pry. I hope I don't intrude. 

Hardy. You have just dropt in to wish the young cou- 
ple joy, 1 suppose? 

Pry. I come to wish Mrs. Subtle joy. You mu?t haveA 
been dreadfully alarmed when you discovered your loss. ■ 

Mrs. S. What loss — whai ? 

Pry. I saw you drop them, and called after you, but 
youdid'nt hearme. 

Mrs. S. What are you speaking of? 

Pry. Poor Mrs. Subtle, thought I, if these had been her 
own, it woujd'nt so much have grieved her : but to lose a 
pacquet belonging to her master — 

Hardy. Eh, w'hat's that ? Papers ? 

Pry. A heavy pacquet she let full into the dry w^ell, up 
yonder. It took me nearly half an hour to hook them out 
again — and here they are. 

Mrs. S. (about to seize them.) They are mine. 

Hardy, {snzing them.) By your leave. So, so, this 
confirms the truth oi Grasp's sthry. Qooking at them^ and 
giving them one by one to WitUerion.) Will this convince 
you — or this — or this? 

Mrs. S. The scheme 1 huve for years been framing, ia 
a moment destroyed by an oUicious fool. 

With. May I beheve my eyes? The letter desiring my 
nephew to hasten to England, suppressed. And here — 
(reads.) " Again I write to you, my dear uncle, to im- 
plore your consent to my marriage."' — And here he en- 
treats permission to see me. What say you to this, Mrs, 
Subtle ? 

Mrs.S. I scorn to reply- If you believe me implicated 
in these intrigues — if you have so lost your confidence in 
my truUi and honesty towards you, bid mo al once begone. 



r 

Act III.'] PAUL PRY. 65 

In your solitude, your uesolate solitude, you will find lei- 
sure to repent your injustice, and — 

With, Say bul you are inuoceut of any participation in 
this, and — 

Hardv. Say it ! Confound her, she'll say it, and swear 
it too. But are you fO blind as not to perceive the drift of 
"her artful speech .'' Why need you be desolate? why need 
you be solitary? It has been her wicked policy to render 
you so. Recall the friends whom natiire has provided for 
you. If >ou won't, I will; and if yau don't like them — 
give them over to me. 

With. What mean you ? 

Hardy. To restore an injured nei)hew to you; and if 
Somers and his wife have suffered througli the calumnies 
this good lady has heaped upon them, your own judge- 
ment has done them right in its true estimate of the vir- 
tues of Willis and IVIarian. Come in. 
'^ Enter Willis gtiJ Marian. 

I hale the parade of sentiment. There they are, so take 
them at once to your heart. They have' nolhirfg to be 
ashamed of, except having an old fool for an uncle. 
(JVi.llis and J\I(irian tkrotv Ihemselvts at Wi(herton''s feet.) 

With. No, not there — not there, (raises and clasps them 
in his arms') To what vile treachery have I been sub- 
jected ? Mrs. Subtle, you may perceive that your pre- 
sence here is no longer desirable. 

.Mrs. S. Think not 1 desire to rejpain ; and if I feel a 
pang at parting with you, it is at the reflection that a few 
hours more would have made me mistress of that fortune, 
which now — may it carry misery wherever it is bestowed 

{Exit. 

Hardy. There 1 If you could entertain the slightest 
regret at the departure of that good lady, 1 trust that her 
farewell speech will serve to extinguish it. 

Pry. {to Hardy.) 'Tis best for him as it is. He'd have 
caught a tartar ; beeides he can be no chicken. Now what 
age would you take him to be? 

Hardy. At a random guess, turned of twenty. Give me 

• your hand, ( o Witkerton.) I congratulate you on your 

accession to your senses. I am happy in what I have done 

here. I feel in good humour with myself, and every brdy 

else. Will no one ask a favour, that I may enjoy the plea- 

6* 



66 pai;l pry. [Poole. 

sure of <2;ranting it? Will no one offend me, to afford me 
the gratification of for(;iving him? 

Enter Frank Hardy. 

Frank. If you are in that mood, sir, I can furnish you 
with employment. 

Hardy. So, Mr. Snooks, is it you ? (to Witherton.) The 
son of our old friend Stanley, with whom you and I have 
cracked many a bottle in our young days. He thinks I 
don't know him. 

Pry. The travelling: gentleman. 

Hardy, (to Frank.) Then you intend to confess who you 
are, and trust to my mercy? But I knew you from the 
first. I was apprized of your runaway freak, and was re- 
solved to humour it. 

Frank. Pray sir, read this letter, (chives a letter.) 

Hardy. " Archibald Stanley'' — a letter from his father. 

Pry. A pa-s to the next parish, I suppose. 

Hardy. What the deuce 1 break off his engagement 
with me; and has he enroura^^ed you in this? 

Frank. Upon n)y word, sir, he is a very rational old 
gentleman, and made no sort of scruple in relinquishing 
his share in the treaty. 

Hardy. So then it appears that my daughter is not 
agreeable to you, and your father is mad enough to — 

Frank. My father, sir ! 

Hardy. Aye, sir, and I consider the conduct of old Mr. 
Stanley in this affair — 

Frank. One word, sir. Is the gentleman I have just 
seen, old Mr. Stanley, the father of Harry Stanley ? Ml 

Hardy. Why this isstroUhing the proverb with a ven-" 
g,-oance : and do you pretend that you did not know your 
own father ? 

Frank. Ha, ha, ha I So then Harry Stanley is the per- 
son you have all along intended for your son-in-law? 

Hardy. Why who the devil else do you think it was? — 
Sir, do you persist m refusing my daughter ? 

Frank. I (hi, sir. Yet, nevertheless, your own inten- 
tions will be fulfilled. 

Ent/'r a Servant. 

Serrt. (/o Withctton.) Mr. Stanley, sir. 

Frank. Ha, ha, ha I I foresee a v/arm explanation here. 



Act III.] PAUI. PKY. 61 

Enter Old Stanley. 

Old S. {to Witherton.) Ah, my old friend! I have 
made a fruitless journey down to this place, hut I would 
not return to town, without shaking you l>y thf hand.— . 
What, Hardy ! I had resolved not to see you, but since 
we have met, your hand. Your daughter may be all the 
happier for the exchange. 

Hardy. So then you countenance your son in his refu- 
sal.'' You allow him to come here, look at my daughter, 
turn up his cursed impudent nose at her, and coolly march 
off again. 

Old S. What, and has my Hal been here ? What has 
become of hiiu ? 

Hardy Wliy don't you see him before you.' Turn 
aboiii you dog. (/o Frank.) 

Old S. Ha, ha, ha ! He's no sou of mine. 

Hardy. Tell me, if that is not your son, pray whose 
son is he ? 

Old S. That's morejthan I can say. All I know about hina, 
is that he is the gentleman m whose favour I have just re- 
linquished my boy's claim to your daughter. 

Hardy. So sir, you have dared to impose upon me, by 
telling me that — 

Frank. You wrong me, sir. I told you nothing. The 
error was of your own creating. 

Pry. There, you see, I was right. 

Hardy. Aye, and your putting me on my guard has led 
to this misunderstanding. But here comes my nephew. I 
shall leave it to him to revenj^e this affront. 

Enter Harry, Eliz4, and Phebe. 

With. My dear friend, be temperate. 

Harry. For all misunderstanding, that has occurred 
here, sir, 1 alone am — the devil, my father! 

Pry. The devil his father ! Well, I thought he did not 
come of a good family, from the first moment 1 saw him. 

Old S. Come hither, sir, and ans^wer your father. 

Hardy. Listen to your uncle, I say. 

OldS. Fou his uncle ! Why zounds, are you mad, or 
do you think I don't know my own son ? 

Hardy. There is some confounded rosfuery in this. If one 
of these is not your son, and the other an impudent rascal 
of a lover, what am I to do for a nephew - 



QQ PAtL PRY. [Poole. 

Phebe. {leading Frank to him. ) For want of another, 
take this. 

Hardy. I begin to perceive. So then you were the 
bird-catcher after all, anJ were already acquainted with 
my daughter. And pray, Mrs. Phebe, how did you dnre — 

Phe. Why, sir, if hot-headed jceutlemen will ask ques- 
tions with pistols ia their hand^, what is one to do? 

JVith. Come, come, say no more. You have your own 
way — 

Hardy. True, I have my own way, but not in niy own 
way of having it. Her obedience is not quite so evident 
m this, as I could have desired — however, there — Qakes 
Harry over to Eliza, and joins their hands.) 

Eliza. Thank you,, pa, and if ever I marry again, you 
shall have the choice all your own way, 

Harry. I am in no hurry to give your pa an opportu- 
nity of putting your obedience to the test. 

Hardy. Frank, my boy, you do take after the family, 
and I forgive you on that account. 

Phe. I hope, sir, you'll forgive me, if not — {turns to 
Witherton.) I hear, sir, that yon have dismissed your 
housekeeper, and — (curtsies) should I losp my place in the 
coloners family — 

With. Ah, my dear, you'are too young for a housekeep- 
er, and I have a ^jndoned my intention to marry. Celi- 
bv.cy is an erro: , which at ray age it is too late to repair. 
I hive been foolish enough to live single all my life, but to 
marry now, would be but to exchange/a great folly for a 
greater. In this is now my refuge for life, {taking his 
nephew'' s and Marian s hgnd. 

Hardy. All you that are single, take warning by him, 
and marry ai iast as you can. 

Prij. {to Phebei) A broad hint to you and me, Mr?. 
Phebe. 

Phe. Lord help mo. You are too inquisitive for a 
Ifusbnud. 

Prij. Pooh, pooh ! A spirit of inquiry is the great cha- 
racteristic of the age we live in. <« 

Hardij. It is a spirit, which now and then, leads you to 
fish in troubled waters. 

Pry. I tlatter niy-elf I have fished to a,ome purpose to- 
ndy though — thc> p.>per>=,you know. 



^^d III.'} PAUL PRY. 69 

Hardy. So you have ; and in consideration of that, will 
tolerate you for the remainder of it. You shall dine with 
me. 

Pry. You'll tolerate me — no, will you? Well, that's 
very polite, and I accept your iuvitation. 

Hardy. But if you dare ask a suiji^le question — even 
whai it is o'clock, I'll toss you out of the window. 

Pry. I must ask one question more. Ladies and gen- 
tlemen, if I am not impertinent — will you— will you OVe;^» 
look the many faults of Paul Pry. 



SarD OE PA¥L PRY, 



is.m.MiriiDi:ii^. 



HAS JUST PUBLISHED AT THE DRAMATIC KEPOSITOKf? 

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A3 Performed in New-York, Alsi), the following 

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Wliere also m.tv he had. 
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71 Prices, Cts. 

Otello, I. o. «38 

Othello, as performed, t. Shakspeare 31 

Otho, T Neal 44 

Ourselves, c. Chambers 31 

P 

Paddy's Trip to America, p. Talbert 25 

Padlock, o. Bickerstaff IS 

Past Ten o'clock, f. Dibdin 13 

Patron, c. Foote 19 

Paul and Virginia, o. Cobb 13 

Paul Pry, c. Poole 25 

Paul Pry at Dover, c. 19 

Peasant Boy, o. Dimond 25 

Peter the Great, p. Dunlap 25 

Phelles, King of Tyre, t. Potter 25 

Piccolomini, d. Schiller 56 

Pilgrim, c. Fletcher 25 

Pirate, m. d. Dibdin 25 

Pizzaro, p. Kotzibue 25 

Plot and Counterplot, f. Kemble 19 

Point of Honour, p. Kemble 19 

Poor Gentleman, c. Colman, jun. 25 

Poor Soldier, o. O^Keeffe 13 

Prize, or, 2 5 3 8, f. Hoare 13 

Pride Shall have a Fall, o. 25 

Prisoner at Large, F. Keese l3 

Promissory Note, o. IS 

Prophecy, D Fowler 13 
Provoked Husband, c. Vanbrugh and Cibber 3S 

Purse ; or, Benevolent Tar, f. Cross 13 

Pygmalion and Galathea, f. Rosseau 13 

Q 

Quaker, c. o. 13 



^2 Prices. Cts, 

R 

Raising the Wind, f. Keniiey 

Ramah Droog, o. Cobb 

Recall of Momus, f. Thompson 

Recruiting Officer, c. Farquhar 

Reconciliation, c Kotzebue 

Recruiting Serjeant, p. Bickerstafl' 

Remorse, o. Ayton 

Renegade, o. Reynolds 

Ret.ibn'ioii, or Cliieftain's Daughter, t. Dillon 3] 

Revenge, t. Young 

Review or Wag of Windsor, o. Colman, jr. 

Ribbemoiit, or the Feudal Baron, t. Dunlap 

Rm hibeu, T. Pa}'ne 

R naldo Rinaldino, m. d. 

Rival Valets, f. 

Richard III, t. Shakspeare, as performed 

Riches, or Wife and Brother, p. Burgcs 

Riffht and Wrong, c. 

Rivals, c. Sheridan 

Road to Ruin c. Holcroft 

R'>y Rov Mricffregor, M. d. Pocock 

Robb • T from the German of Schiller 

R( • n Hood, M. D. M'Nally 

"^.oland for an Oliver, v Morton 

Roman Actor, int. Messenger 

R(.meo and Giuelletta, i. o. 

Romeo and Juliet, t. Shakspeare 

Rump.. F. Bickerstaff 

Rosa,M D. Heyer 

Rose of Arrogan, m. d. Judah 

Rosina, or Love in a Cottage, o. 

Roses and Thoi ns, Lunn 

Royal Oak, r. Dimond 



iJa76 
















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